Breathe Deeply Before You Fall
by Child of Mars
Summary: Every time he tried to crush her spirit, she rose again like the sun over the desert. Every time he belittled her for her weakness, she showed him just how strong she really was. And every time he tried to tell himself he really didn't love her, he knew he was lying. Marla, Khan and their life on Ceti Alpha V. Rated T for violent character deaths and depressing thematic elements.
1. Chapter 1

**Breathe Deeply Before You Fall**

Khan blinked as the transport room, warm and vibrating with energy, dissolved into glittering particles of light. For a split second, he felt disembodied, floating, careless …then he was standing on firm ground, thick weeds that gave way slightly beneath his booted feet. The feeling was so swift, so transient, and gone so fast that it was barely noticeable, leaving nothing but a passing impression on his mind.

With him were four of his sixty remaining people, sixty of his fellow supermen, ready to dig their hands into this new world and mold it into their own image. He could see wide, expansive forests and a running river that wound its way through the valley for some distance before it disappeared at the base of tall, tree-studded hills that glowed a soft green in the sunlight. Yes, the sun was very warm and very beautiful, much like the sun of Earth. Plenty of lumber, fresh water, and wildlife rushing free through a virgin wilderness. With their enhanced powers and this raw material, free for the taking, what more could he require?

Of course, it would have been easier to come upon a ready made, unsuspecting civilization, to destroy the government and take its place, drawing on an authority that had already been tended and obeyed mindlessly for hundreds of years. To travel the stars and spread that rule over a thousand solar systems…he glanced up at the sky, a rueful feeling clawing at his stomach. That love of freedom that lives in all men, that chaffs against involuntary imprisonment and slowly gnaws away the reason of a man's mind…and the greater the ambition, the greater the dreams…the greater the pain.

Yes, he would, given the choice, prefer the freedom of space-travel. If he had been born and raised on this planet with no knowledge of the universe above his head it would be a different matter; but he had seen the shining stars, the burning hearts of molten planets and the limitless, black reaches of space; he could never close his eyes to them again.

A soft sigh escaped Marla McGivers as she stood beside him. He turned his head to look at her and saw fear in her face. The end of his mouth curled up ever so slightly, because he knew exactly what sort of terror plagued the woman. It wasn't fear of punishment from his hand, but fear of rejection from his heart. Such a weak, delicate thing she was, like a butterfly perched on his hand. A single puff of air from his lips, and he would lose her beauty forever as her fragile self-esteem crumbled away.

She was afraid that he would be furious with her for releasing Captain Kirk; he was. He knew he would be angry about that, perhaps for the rest of his days. Her swift betrayal of him should really have come as no surprise, considering the fact that she had been so conflicted and trembling, opening her heart but unwilling to share her soul.

She might love Khan, but she had no loyalty to him, no loyalty to his cause. She followed her heart, not her will. And the heart is always fickle. So now, because of Marla's weak, misplaced affections and watery, transparent attachments to two different worlds, Khan Noonien Singh and the last of the great Augments were trapped on a tiny globe of earth, air and water, tucked away in a small pocket of the great big Universe.

But what could he possibly hope to achieve by avenging himself upon her? Why did he expect to keep a loyalty he had forced from her in the first place? This planet wasn't a bad place; a raw, bounteous land full of unlimited potential; and she was a beautiful woman. A spouse had had no reason to fear; she would never question him or disobey or bring her words against his, as an Augment woman would. Normally, to avoid such a danger, Khan would never have married. But Marla was here, and she was ideal for the role of the perfect little wife.

He slipped his hand around her chin, pulling her face to look at him. Even if she'd wanted to, she could not resist it. Her soft blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. _Gods of my people,_ he could not help thinking disapprovingly, _she is afraid of this new life too. How can a being live with so much fear?_

An unfamiliar urge to comfort her welled up inside him like a spring of water. His words wrapped around her, reassuring as they were empty, compelling as the words of a man who had once controlled thousands through voice alone. "It is a new world, Marla. A world of terror and beauty combined into one. It will be hard for you," _not for us, we who have ten times your strength and intelligence, _"but I will be here for you."

He could see her rousing herself, putting on a brave face for his sake. Good. He noticed her white neck expand as she swallowed heavily, her sweet mouth tightening into a firm, determined line. "I know. I won't disappoint you."

She sounded almost…_bitter_ saying that, somehow. Not that he cared enough to figure out why. It was enough that she was trying. He smiled, a devilish, easy smile that had swept countless duchesses, princesses, and queens off their feet. It had much more possessive charm than affection in it. But there was affection there, nonetheless. "You could never disappoint me, my dove."

This seemed to remind her of the worries that had been weighing on her mind so heavily. When he let go of her chin, she blinked rapidly, eyes darting away as she tried to clear her thoughts. "Khan, I…the ship, the captain…I…"

"It is done," Khan said sharply, in a tone that brooked no argument. It was not as good as 'I forgive you', but it ended the discussion just as well. He didn't want to talk about Kirk, or the Enterprise, or lost chances any longer, "let us say no more."

She opened her mouth anyway; she was going to try and pursue her point with that wonderful verbal stubbornness peculiar to her kind. Khan shook his head even as he leaned down to silence her pitiful protests. _Women. _

And he kissed her, pulling her to him as they stood together in the golden glow of the sun of Ceti Alpha V, which sank behind the horizon, setting on the dawn of a new world.

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The first thing they began to work on was a large clearing around Botany Bay. Whatever prowled about in those woods, they needed to be able to see it if it attacked the camp. Khan drew the schematics for a defensive barrier, using energy from the ship to create lamps and alert-triggers that lined the edge of the clearing.

Then, when the basic structures had been built and the finishing touches and improvements were being laid on, Khan divided the workload between building temporary shelters and weapons that were effective and easily made from native materials. He was determined to use the planet itself as much as possible and not tax the cargo bays, which were to be their emergency supply.

There was also the Botany Bay, engines stripped, sleeper cabins cannibalized…an empty husk, a final parting gift from Kirk. A reminder of the great and dangerous journey they had made, the brothers and sisters they had lost, and the utter failure that fate had dealt to them. A gift and a mockery at the same time.

On a day when the weather was clear and the warm breeze fanned against their faces, singing of the unknown and the unexplored, Khan gave in to the spring-like fever and led an exploration party into the forests. Deer-like mammals that ran on four legs but could also fly on leathery wings when they were startled. Small, slithering, furry worms that hissed and rubbed around their shoes blindly, cooing and vibrating. Chattering creatures that sped so quickly from treetop to treetop that it was hard to say what they looked like, and birds. Bright, colorful birds that flew around them, fearless, singing, unable to sense any threat from weapons they had never before seen.

Khan did not want to break the spell of this first journey, so he ordered that there was to be no shooting unless it was necessary. Then he led the troop up one of the great hills that crowned the valley, intending to have a few minutes of quiet majesty, like a king observing the whole of his domain for the first time. He lifted his strong legs high before bringing them down again, forging a way through the thicket with ease. Marla was hiking just behind him, her breath coming in short wheezes as she tripped and struggled over the rough terrain of fallen tree branches, rocks, and earthy hillsides.

Once only, she gave a small whimper of pain. Impatient and irritated by this sound that broke the beautiful atmosphere so rudely, Khan whirled around and saw her clutching her leg. A sharp stick had embedded itself just above her knee as she tried to throw one leg over a dead log. A small, red trickle of blood stained her dark stockings.

Restraining a sigh, Khan slipped one arm under her shoulders and gently but firmly gathered her knees together, lifting her out of the mess of sticks like a small child. He was about to put her down, but she laid her head on his chest with a tired sound of self-recrimination. The feeling of her soft hair brushing his neck turned something on inside him, and he carried her the rest of the way to the crest of the hill before setting her down.

Suddenly and seemingly unaware of her presence, he turned around to watch the rest of his people join them at the top. Marla pushed her thumb against her puncture wound, wobbling a little on her feet as she stared at the valley below. Her stiff, bright mini skirt stood out sharply against all the green. It made her look like she was on fire.

_She needs better clothes if she is to live here,_ Khan thought ruefully, glancing back at her over his shoulder, his hands on his hips as he almost guiltily enjoyed the sight, _there should be some extra jumpsuits in the Botany Bay. _

The other members of the exploring party swerved to either side as they passed him, shouldering each other boisterously, laughing, eager to take a look at this brand new world. Then there was a few minutes' silence.

Marie shook her head slowly; her short, thick black hair reflecting the sunshine like white bars of light. Her eyes were wide, drinking the sight in almost hungrily. "It is so beautiful…so very wild."

Tauto laughed at her comment and lifted his hands up, curling his fingers as if he was grabbing handfuls of cloud. "Ha! I cannot wait to get my hands on it!"

"This, I think, was a wise choice, Khan," Joachim said quietly, his hooded grey eyes burning with quiet thought. Joachim was a man Khan respected. It was no small thing to earn Khan's respect.

"What do you mean, Joachim?" Khan crossed his arms as he sidestepped closer to the other man.

"I hunger to conquer other worlds, to bring them under our sway, to order and protect and organize them. A mighty challenge, such as we have never had before. But this…this world…it somehow seems an even greater challenge. Think of it, what we do here, we will do well. We will create a civilization that will be the awe of the galaxies. We have all the knowledge we need to bring it light years ahead of other newly born nations. It will be like a child prodigy."

"Our child, old friend. Our child prodigy," M'dara smiled, her smooth, dark skin glowing with the reflected light of the sun as her hair whipped around her face. Like all the supermen, she was tall and strong, beautiful and bursting with life. She almost seemed to pulse with an enthusiasm for existence. Looking at her, Khan knew they would succeed, especially with women like this.

_Women like this_…he glanced down at Marla. She had dropped to a seat in the grass, crossing her legs and staring out over the valley. He could not catch any excited gleam in her eye, any anticipation or zest for the challenge. Only exhaustion and awe.

Could this woman ever lift heavy planks from trees, wrestle down wild beasts, or tame the land that rolled out before them? Could her fragile body bear Khan's children, could her milk-white spirit stand the hardships, the exposure, and the challenge?

Thinking she was unobserved, Marla dropped her face into her hands, her red hair spilling down like a curtain. Khan frowned grimly. _I think not._

Seeing this weak being he was saddled with, he almost ordered everyone back down; Marla had spoiled the mood by her presence. Grabbing a hold of himself, he reconsidered. _After all, I do not want her to die of exhaustion on the way._ "We will rest for fifteen minutes. Then we head back."

If Marla realized he was doing this for her, she gave no notice. Khan didn't mind. He turned and began walking off along the top of the hill, hoping to get a birds eye view of the river. He was instantly aware of it when someone broke away from the group and came up behind him. "What troubles you, Marie?"

A sly, seductive smile curved up one side of her mouth. "You never let your guard down, mighty Khan?"

"Never around you, enchantress of France," Khan spoke with humor, but his mouth remained in a thin line of concentration as he stared out over the valley, taking in its depth, measuring the time needed to colonize and subjugate it.

"The poor woman of the Enterprise…she seems tired. You had to carry her; I saw."

"I would be disappointed if you did not," Khan answered dryly. He was suddenly aware of where this was going; he was no reveler in the wars of love, but he had had enough experience. He also knew Marie rather well.

"Khan, you know what I mean. This McGivers has served her purpose; failed it, I should say. I can bear the burdens she cannot; I will survive where she will waste away. She has no idea what lies before us; I do. She will eat our food, drink our water, then sicken and die. Kinder, I think, to send her to the next life now. We, you and I and our people, we must move on. She is of no more use to you."

Khan crossed his arms, his face amused. "What you say is true, Marie. But I believe you speak more from personal desire than actual concern for our rations. Look around you," he swept an arm out, "we have all this. Surely we can share it with one weakling?"

Marie's big smile faltered; she was no fool. She realized she was losing ground. Stepping up beside him, she stared up at his face, not the valley below. Her gaze traveled over his hair, so black that it was almost blue, which reached down to his shoulders before curling inwards in little waves. The straight, strong nose that lent so much nobility and elegance to his dark face and his firm eyebrows that lent such a perfect shade to his eyes, dusky brown and full of fire. It was the face of a prince, a Sikh of India. The kind of face many a princess had dreamed of.

Staring at his face, Marie only realized all the more how much she wanted to be his. "She is not one of us," she forced her voice to be steady, "she is a burden and an unnecessary one at that."

Khan cocked an eyebrow at her; he knew he was playing with her and it was cruel, but teasing women's hearts was something he had done very often, and very well. Of all his brethren, Khan was the most charismatic. He had a magnetic presence, a tone in his voice that seemed to wrap others' wills into his. He was a born leader, a quality that had only been augmented by the Eugenic Wars. Some people would bend over backwards to do his bidding with very little promise of reward.

It had been his idea to select the very best of the supermen, to have them swear allegiance to him and make a gamble with the unknown, taking off in an experimental sleeper ship with set coordinates for a distant planet few of them had even heard of before. It took trust and faith, something Khan found easy to instill in his followers.

He looked down at Marie, remembering her words; _she is a burden and an unnecessary one at that_. He knew exactly what she meant. Did she think him a butcher? He would slaughter Marla to save a few pounds of food and free himself of any obligations? Or, better yet, free him to take Marie as his wife?

The idea insulted his pride. Except for a dangerous look in his eyes, he made no sign of the anger building inside him. He had always fought to keep a tight control on his anger. Perhaps he had returned to life in a new era of peace, but his freshest memories were the Eugenic wars, where it was a battle in itself simply to keep one's soul intact. In the midst of death, deceit, and betrayal, a king's temper could easily flare. And Khan had always had a terrible temper. "You think I would kill this woman, simply because she is no use to me?"

Marie realized her mistake, trying to backstep. "I never said…"

"You are very beautiful, Marie. And in another lifetime, I would have said yes. But it would mean nothing to me, you understand? Nothing! There is attraction between us, but no love. Love is another trap of words and emotions that was torn out of our biological makeup as children. There is no such thing as love. The only thing like it that I have left is honor. I keep my word, and I keep my obligations. McGivers opened her heart to me. She still experiences love. She believes I love her. She is to be my wife, because I am responsible for her. Do you understand?!"

Marie's face had turned dark. Dangerous. Her hand unconsciously grabbed at her belt for a knife. Khan tensed, but made no other move. He knew she wasn't so stupid as to attack him here in front of the others, and especially not in front of Joachim, the 'Spanish Assassin'. It was merely emotions, and they would pass.

And they did. Marie took a deep breath, then let it out, draining the rage from her body. Her feet shifted position, like a relaxing tigress. "I understand, but I am not satisfied." Her blue eyes darted like lightning at Marla's red head, easily visible even at this distance. "McGivers has none of my good will."

"She does not need it," Khan smiled confidently at her, looking smug but also full of warning as he stepped forward and passed by, forcing her to move back to avoid his broad shoulders, "she has mine." Meaning, _if you try to hurt her, I will hurt you._

Marie bowed her head in acceptance, following Khan as he rejoined the group. After all, he was her leader, even if he would not be her lover. Until someone better stepped forward. And then, things would be different.

Khan bent down, touching Marla on the shoulder. Startled, she jerked her body into action and stumbled to a stand beside him. He observed her for a second, wondering whether or not she could make it. He decided she could. "Come, we must go back."

Marla hesitated; she looked down the steep incline that led into the tangled forest. Khan resisted the childish urge to roll his eyes. "Do you want me to carry you again?"

At this, Marla's head flew up proudly, a beautiful anger flashing in her blue eyes. Khan was surprised, but like a trained warrior, showed nothing of it. She brushed by him, not breaking stride as she began the difficult, sliding descent.

A tiny smile curved the side of his mouth. Marla McGivers was not completely spineless, it seemed. In fact, she seemed to have a little bit of a temper too. That was alright with him. In fact, he would have been even happier if her temper matched her beautiful red hair in brightness. Spirit and fire were some things he admired above all others, especially in a woman.

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Khan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the makeshift curtain shift. It was basically woven bed sheets of a dark green color, too thick and in the wrong light to see anything through. They were survival blankets, meant to shield you from the fiercest cold. He wondered what winter would be like when it finally arrived.

Marla came out from behind the partition wearing the red jumpsuit. She carried her old red dress and stockings and high-heeled shoes in a bundle, her old Starfleet uniform. When she saw him, she halted, her new boots thumping on the metal floor. The way Khan was looking at her…it was both unsettling and flattering. "Where do I….put my things?"

Khan smiled at her. She did indeed look lovely, especially in red. It seemed to set her hair on fire and brighten her eyes. He wished she would smile at him more often. She seemed more ill at ease than anything else, which was unreasonable. He had not tried to intimidate or dominate her or even threaten her since they came to the planet. It angered and irritated him. He wanted her to smile at him. "I was thinking we could make it easy. You opened your heart to me, Marla, and I promised to never send you away again. I wish to make you my wife."

Ah, there was the hopeful, joyful look he had been missing. But somehow, a wariness crept in, poisoning the beauty of her face, poisoning the happiness of the moment. Khan sighed. It was not that important. It could be dealt with later. "You do not answer."

That moved her. He knew that her devotion would overcome any strange reservations she had been harboring. She blinked, her face seeming to come alive again as she dropped the clothes on the floor in an unheeded pile. "Yes, Khan. I will be your wife."

_I will be._ She spoke as if she were the one making an acquiescence. It rankled Khan's pride. He covered the distance between them in two short strides, taking her hands in his, feeling how small they were, remembering how he had forced her into submission by merely squeezing them. For an instant, he thought he would do it again.

But he didn't. He reached up instead to stroke her cheek gently, feeling how soft and smooth the skin was. Her red hair brushed softly against his knuckles. She stood on tiptoe, inviting him into a kiss. Slowly, he gathered her into his arms. For one blissful moment, loving her as he knew she loved him, he had nothing to worry about, and nothing to regret.

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Khan pointed to the west, where the trees thinned slightly and the river widened. He shifted his stance, allowing the others to scoot closer and see what he saw. "There is where we will build the road leading to the river…the houses can be scattered around it, wherever you wish, but keep them well spaced and ordered…not too close to the water."

"And if we want to build a home for two?" Tauto smirked, leaning towards Elizabeth suggestively. She rolled her eyes and shoved him away.

Khan gave them a stare that quickly reduced their childish antics to a whisper. When Augments were not fighting each other, they usually got along very well. Too well, as Khan had discovered when his followers on Earth rebelled against him. Even the Augments on this planet, while relatively content and still bound by their oath, displayed a disconcerting insolence at certain times. Usually they were just bored, feeling that a matter was not important if they were not in control. At other times, they were pushing Khan. Pushing him to see how much he would take.

Well, they had met their match. They could push Khan to the end of time, and he would never falter, never surrender. He was stronger than the earth they stood upon. He could, if he had a mind to, destroy them all. Because he was the best.

But for now, he would humor them. These particular Augments were no more than children, really. Tauto had been sincere enough; he really was going to try and claim Elizabeth for his own, if she didn't whack him unconscious first. Khan nodded slowly, as if he was considering the words after cleansing them of juvenile stupidity. "Before we can have an empire, we must have families."

"I do have another task, however, for M'dara. We must also record all our technology. There is no telling when the databanks in the Botany Bay fail, running on emergency power as they are. You must encrypt them onto data chips and store them safely in durasteel capsules. It will be useful for our descendants when they are ready to take to the stars again. We must also record all we have stored in here," he pointed to his head, "I myself have a good grasp of present day engineering. Some of you can contribute from your fields…little secrets, no doubt, that you would not share with me when we fought over the earth together." He glanced around with a teasing grin. They chuckled in response, past ambitions still not completely forgotten, even in the face of this new challenge that would certainly take up their entire lives.

Marla caught his quick eyes when she came out of the half-finished hut at the campsite, carrying some odd articles of laundry with her. She dumped it in a large basket that would be escorted down to the river later, along with the rest of the crew's clothes. He paused to watch her as she dusted off her hands and snapped the lid shut.

She turned and noticed him looking at her. He quickly glanced away, not wanting to have to smile in response. He never wanted to be forced into showing frivolous affection, just for the sake of brightening _her_ day. She was his wife, after all. A pleasant companion, a mother for his children, a balm for his eyes. Nothing more.

"We will concentrate first on ensuring that each family has enough food, clothing, and sustenance. When the children come, we will encourage them to be the best, in the woods or in the laboratory, in the fields or the hunt. But most of all, we will teach them to always think on their destiny, their heritage; as the rulers of the Universe."

Marla had moved back into his vision as he spoke, listening to his words, almost as if she was trying to get his attention. As he ended his speech, a frown came over her face. She crossed her arms and, shocking Khan, rolled her eyes to the sky in derision.

Such a little thing should never have irritated him. But it did, like a tiny splinter that somehow inflames the flesh all around it. His mouth tightened in a frown, his eyes glaring at her. She saw it, but she did not meekly duck her head or back away. She tossed her hair at him and stalked off in a fine show of female defiance.

Which was unusual, for her. It was also alluring. A reluctant, fond smile softened his face.

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It was early afternoon, the sun hot and deep, glowing as it lit the forest and the grassy clearing with light. The mouthwatering smell of roasted meat floated from the fire, teasing men and women alike. In some ways, Khan reflected with amusement, his people were no different from normal human beings. Tauto was even trying to snatch a tidbit off the roasted animal, only to have M'dara smack his hand so hard that the sound rang through the camp as ladle connected with bone.

He sighed; looking back at the plans he had spent the past few hours drawing. So much to do, so little time. Every day was too short, with the work always pushing into the late hours of the night. It was exhausting, and yet it filled him with more energy than anything he had ever before attempted. It was almost as if, in attempting to preserve rather than destroy life, he was receiving new life back into his spirit. It gave him a unique, wholesome sense of accomplishment that was not so invigorating or exciting as combat and victory, but even more satisfying.

Marla was singing inside. She had a pleasant contralto voice that was easy on the ears. Even without prompting, she always sang for her own enjoyment, an expression of how she was feeling. Such songs, Khan had discovered, had an unprofessional yet beautiful quality, a free spirit no slave's ballad could compare with. He had come to enjoy Marla's singing, even going so far as to ask her to sing for him.

Which was opening yet another can of worms, since Marla's singing seemed to also reflect how she was feeling about _him_. Sometimes it was happy, confident, and strong, sometimes pounding furiously, other times spiritless and trembling. Those last songs always made him impatient and furious, and he wanted to shake her.

Why was she always so unhappy? She was the legal wife of Khan Noonien Singh, leader of the Augments and lord of Ceti Alpha V, not his scullery slave, which she very well could have become. The mere prestige and envy accompanying such a position would make any right minded female mad with jealousy. He gave Marla many liberties, many thoughtful gifts and attentions he would never give someone else. And still, she avoided him.

He blinked suddenly as the sunlight shifted on the rushing, murmuring river, sending bright white light straight into his face. He stood up, tired of sitting anyway, and watched the ripples as they seemed to weave along the water and through the valley like a silver thread. He saw where the thread ended, in the mountains, and he wondered what was beyond them. Someday, perhaps, when their settlement was well established, he would lead an exploration party there and find out.

Suddenly, something screeched just behind his ear, like an angry parrot that was being strangled. He instinctively jerked his body to the side, turning around at the same time, his fingers grasping at empty air as Drigga, Marla's tame pet bird, rocketed by his face in a storm of yellow feathers.

It circled into the sky like a mad thing, still screeching insanely. Khan frowned. Something was just not right about the bird's behavior. He remembered the elephants of India, how intelligent and expressive they were. Working among them as a younger man, he had soon learned to understand the sign language they communicated through their sounds and body movements. Many a time while fighting guerrillas deep in the pit strewn, tree crowded jungle where tanks and cannons could not go, the instincts of animals had saved his life.

He stepped forward, peering at Drigga as it dove crazily, nearly hitting a woman in the head. She too tried to snatch it but missed as the bird pulled up steeply, tearing through the air and heading towards the clean, white clouds that graced the sky like hot cotton.

As Khan followed the tiny yellow blur and watched it disappear, he saw something else slowly morphing in the heavens. His brown eyes widened.

With a strong, steady sensation, sound seemed to suck out of the very air around him, leaving it utterly silent, as if the world had been flooded by warm water. The sky twisted in on itself, stretching the clouds out like thin cotton candy as the beautiful blue rusted over into an orangeish red.

A true child of constant struggle, danger, and death, Khan's warrior instincts took over. He looked down, and he screamed. But the words were too quiet; every movement seemed slowed down by hours as the sun hung, suspended, in the red sky.

He screamed for everyone to get inside the ship. They listened. They were warriors too, and more than that, they were survivors. Stopping for nothing, they dropped what they were doing and pelted towards the Botany Bay. Khan turned, ducked inside his half finished hut, and grabbed Marla by the upper arm.

He did not explain. There was no time to explain. He slung her, shrieking, over his shoulders. He turned and ran for the ship. The earth began to shake, rolling upwards and groaning. Nausea built in Khan's stomach. He felt lightheaded, as if his brain was being pulled the wrong way. Each step somehow swayed off target, nearly unbalancing him as he wondered what force of nature had stolen away his natural grace. But he ran. He leapt. He dove into the ship through a crowd of silent supermen who slammed the door shut behind him. Marla was dumped off his shoulders and fell with a thump to the metal floor.

But the world was not done falling to pieces. The ship rattled. Everyone, silent and intense, began to grab onto something, ignoring the pain as they wedged their bodies and limbs into the safest crannies possible. They latched onto door handles and balance bars until their strong knuckles turned white. Like turtles, they seemed to only harden under this new catastrophe, knowing what needed to be done, knowing that there was no certainty any of them would survive. They simply did what instinct told them, and waited for fate to decide.

Marla had stopped screaming. Khan was grateful for that. He pushed her into a corner, grabbing her hands and forcing her to hold on. Red lights blared, the alerts screaming throughout the ship as he stumbled towards the controls, wanting to be where he could do something…_anything_.

Then the ship began to turn over. Botany Bay creaked and reeled; switching the roof with the floor and back again as alert sirens screamed and wires vomited out sparks. The world outside was roaring in agony, bucking and thrashing in pain, and they were caught in it like pebbles in a hurricane.

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Khan's mind was content to float in blackness, warm and soft and utterly blind. There was a dull ringing in his ears and tiny whispers that warned him that he and his followers were in danger, but nothing seemed urgent enough to warrant ripping the protective darkness apart and forging a path out into the painful light.

Then, a heavy, hard thing began to squeeze his lungs. Air turned hot in his chest, forcing its way out. But nothing returned to fill the emptiness that was burning inside him. He couldn't breathe. Pressure began to build inside his head. If he stayed in the darkness any longer, he knew he would die.

He opened his eyes. One of them instantly seemed to catch on fire, stinging. He closed it. With the other eye, he could see nothing. It was completely black. The thought crossed his mind that he might be blind; with a desperate force of willpower, he smashed the panic down.

There was something hard on his chest; he pulled his arms up. One was stuck under something. He wriggled the fingers, testing for pain, and found none. Than he yanked it free. The other hand was slippery with moisture. He brought them both against the thing on his chest and shoved.

Five seconds, and his trembling muscles gave, forcing even more air out as the thing nestled heavily against his chest a second time. He lay still, fighting to pull in as much oxygen as he could. Then he tried again, summoning the power that had once made him the most feared man in Asia. Placing both hands flat, he pushed. _It must give._ _It __**will**__ give._

It did. He pulled his legs awkwardly as the thing rolled over them, smashing bone and scraping metal. He threw his head back with the pain, gritting his teeth, too paralyzed to even breath the air he had fought so hard to gain. Had the explosion…natural disaster, or whatever…had it done this much damage? Was the entire world dark, had the sun been devoured? Had the others…

The others.

Khan dragged his feet under him and reared to a stand. He swayed, putting a hand out to steady himself as he shouted into the thick, claustrophobic gloom of the ship, "Marla! Joachim…Tauto! Marie! M'dara! Salazar! Christopher! Gloria!"

With each name, something out in the darkness seemed to stir and come alive. Purpose, with its wonderful certainty, filled Khan's pain fogged mind. "Answer me!"

"Here…here…" the voices ranged from garbled to clear. He did not hear Marla.

"Can any of you move?"

"I think so…" he could tell it was Joachim who had answered.

"Well, do not try! I will find the door. Anyone who can reach, look for the emergency lights."

He stepped forward, feeling very carefully with his boot. More than once he touched an unresponsive leg or arm of someone unconscious or…dead. He forced himself to ignore it, pressing his long, sensitive fingers to the wall, trying to feel the heat of control panels, wary of the innocent, fuzzy sensation of shorted out wires.

Suddenly, a dull green light switched on. Khan blinked, turning around sharply to see who held it. To his surprise, it was Marla. One side of her face was blackened, but she was slowly pulling herself up on her wildly shaking legs. She tossed the light to him. He caught it, forcing himself not to look at the littered bodies the light exposed. There would only be more outside. Not everyone could have made it inside in such little time.

He turned around and secured the lamp against the wall before pushing the controls to open the door. There was a quiet electric sound that whirred fruitlessly, but nothing else. Khan took a deep breath, then threw himself forward, digging his fingers into the cracks and grunting as a sharp pain began to throb inside his left elbow. But he kept pulling.

Slowly, painfully, it gave. It screeched and ground over the slide path. With a hiss, something fell inside against Khan's boot. It was cold and soft and apparently dead. He kicked it off, and whatever it was sprayed against the wall. _Sand_. Khan realized.

Then, light began to slice into the black compartment, like a prison bar that slowly expanded, swallowing up the shadows. The light was yellow. Air poured inside in a cloud of dust. Khan coughed, sticking his head out to look.

And what he saw was a dead world.

Sand, blown from who knew where, covered the once grassy lawn. Dead stumps of burning trees that had been struck down by the wind, the earthquake, and the flames that rocketed down from the huge rent torn through the sky. There was fire over the ground. The ship had literally been pushed against the hillside and sand was pouring down around it, mingling with eroded soil.

Khan stumbled out of the ship, staring at the ashes of their dreams. The campsite was demolished. The village, which had just begun to stand on its own feet, was wiped off the face of the earth. He strode through the sand, not noticing the red trail of blood that dripped from his arm.

He came to the crest of the campsite, and looked down at the valley below, the valley that had been full of such promise. The shining river was gone, pulled down under the earth itself. Khan knew enough of geology and planetary science to realize what had happened.

Their moon, Ceti Alpha VI, had exploded. Its powerful gravitational pull had gone haywire, and was now in the process of changing the land around them, once a fertile forest, into a doomed desert wasteland.

Already, a freezing wind howled like an avenging ghost, whipping around the yellow vest Khan had been wearing in the heat of the afternoon sun, nipping at his bare chest and arms…was that the same sun up there? Yellow and hard and already so old? Was this dead horizon truly Ceti Alpha V? It was too real to be a dream, too real and sudden to even be believed. It was more like they had been abducted and dumped on another world.

A soft hand on his shoulder startled him, and he wheeled around, hands clenched into fists. He was just begging for an enemy to pound into a bloody pulp. _That_ was real. _That_ was something he could believe in.

Marla stared up at him. An ill flush was crawling up her beautiful, bruised cheeks. "There's…there's sixteen dead…I think. So many are wounded. So many are _missing_…"

Khan reached for her hand, hardly knowing why he was doing so. It was almost like he was asking her for something, _anything_. But her brief, choked words of despair reawakened the leader inside him. He smiled grimly, feeling as if his eyes had turned into stone and he couldn't close them. "Then we bury, we heal, and we find them."

He glanced back once more, watching as the faraway roar of the hungry fire reached his ears, leaping from tree to tree, devouring every living thing. Anything it missed would be dead within weeks, killed by the massive upheaval of the ecosystem.

For an instant, he thought he could see the river again, the silver thread surrounded by a green carpet of lush trees. His own words echoed back to him, mocking him, _There is where we will build the road. And the homes. Before we can have an empire, we must have families. When the children come, we will encourage them to be the best. But most of all, we will teach them to always think on their destiny, their heritage; as the rulers of the Universe._

A bitter snort forced its way out, and he threw back his head and laughed, howling against the deep, black flood of despair that threatened to swallow him alive.

* * *

**_Author's Notes: I'm not sure whether the actual orbit change would be this sudden and shocking, whether the planet wouldn't just die steadily around them as the weather went to extremes and the altitude changed. But this fits my story better, so, have mercy on me. It's science fiction. Also, I am not a Trekkie, although I do enjoy the show. I have seen both "TOS: Space Seed" and "The Wrath of Khan". I have heard of but have never read "Ruling In Hell" or any of the other written works on Khan, although I'm dying to. Please enjoy and remember, reviews feed plot bunnies_**!


	2. Chapter 2

After the initial recovery, Khan ordered the still recuperating Augments to gather everything of value and pile it into the Botany Bay. Despite the fact that many were still suffering from concussions and open wounds, they worked hard and fast. Besides death itself, very little could hold them back when survival was in question. To conserve energy, they tightened the fence and shrunk down their once ambitious borders. Unused to the new temperatures or terrain, they slept together in the ship like a group of teenagers sleeping over at a strange house, silent and alone, staring out into the night with wide eyes. Not terrified…just lost.

It did not help that Khan Noonien Singh, the strong, the determined, the brilliant…it did not help that he suddenly entered into a strange state of inactivity. Some perceived it as a retreat from this sudden crashing down of all their dreams. Some saw it as shock, others as deep thought or cowardice.

But Marla knew what it was. Khan was waiting.

She saw him glance up at the sky often, brows furrowed, brown eyes searching the heavens with an urgency that in any other man would have been desperation. In him, it was intensity. He was waiting for Kirk. He knew him to be a man of honor and simpleminded compassion, a man who would return to save them from this even if it was only to bring them to another wilderness. But even a wilderness would be better than this wasteland.

So Khan waited, keeping his people close together with their belongings, like refugees of war, waiting forever for the train that would take them to safety. For weeks, he glanced up at the sky with trusting expectancy.

Weeks passed, and Kirk did not come.

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Marla pulled at her blanket, trying to tuck it tighter around her shoulders as the big, roughly made bed poked into her back. She lay quiet a moment, watching the metal roof with wide blue eyes, listening as it creaked in complaint, buffeted by the wind outside.

The Botany Bay had fallen apart, its abused seams finally surrendering to the hot wind that whipped burning sand into every nook and cranny. It had already been an outdated, overused wreck when the Enterprise dropped it here, and the catastrophe had only accelerated the inevitable.

Now they had all begun living inside the Enterprise cargo bays, the only things that could withstand the fierce dust storms that rose up every other month. Sometimes, the worst blasts would make them rock back and forth like unsteady ships.

However, through a stroke of luck, Joachim and Cho-Mee had discovered deep caverns, miles and miles of underground chambers that were laced throughout the subsurface of the planet. Khan had instantly set a team to work, sweeping out the centuries of dust and debris, securing the entrance and moving their supplies and furniture in. With luck, the caves would soon be ready to serve as their storm-season shelters, when the desert buffeted them hour after hour with winds like this one.

The door slammed open, more from the force of the gale than the man coming inside. He shut it against the howling storm with far more ease than Marla would have thought possible. Then again, he _was_ Khan Noonien Singh, the greatest of the Augments.

She scooted to the far side of the bed, watching as he pulled off his sand mask and ragged coat, kicking them into a heap in the corner. He was tired. She could see it in the slight slump that weighed down those ever-strong shoulders. He turned around and went towards the bed. It seemed like split seconds between sitting and then crashing down on his back, a deep, deep sigh of contentment escaping him as his body finally realized it could stop pushing itself to the limit.

He stared at the ceiling, just as she had. There was a raw, jagged cut that slit open the muscles of his neck, near the jawbone. It was red and angry, but the scab had dried. Khan always made light of such injuries and it was often hard for him to sympathize with hers. True, his nerves were the same as any other man's, even more sensitive, in fact, but his ability to heal was infinitely greater. He hurt more, but he could stand it better, which seemed to Marla to be a bit of a contradiction.

"Where'd you get that?" Her whisper slipped through the silence without breaking it as she reached out with a finger and traced the outline of the cut, carefully avoiding the sore skin.

Khan smirked at the roof in a tired way, acknowledging her presence with a barely discernible motion of his hand as it closed the distance between them, touching her lower arm beneath the sheets. "An accident. Christopher's boy was playing by the pumps. He was caught by the suction and as I reached in to grab him, my chin was pierced by the sharp edge of the exhaust port. The boy is safe, however. He is to stay in cargo bay 3 until he is old enough to not wander mindlessly."

"It's a good thing that…that Captain Kirk left us the cargo bays," Marla said quietly, watching him for the change she knew would come at Kirk's name.

A dark storm seemed to roll through his face, clouding his tall brow, pulling the mouth into a tight frown of rage. He twisted his head to face her, his black hair pulling across the pillow beneath his cheek. "Indeed, we are blessed that 'Captain Kirk' left us anything at all. We had six months, exactly half a year; he allowed our hopes to build. And then he destroyed all our chances without a _thought_!" He snapped his fingers at the last word, gritting his teeth at the sky, brown eyes searching as if he could actually see the Enterprise above their heads and was judging his aim with a spear.

"It was a natural disaster, Khan. Kirk couldn't have blown up a planet."

This time he turned his scornful eyes on her. "Really? Ah, thank you for making it clear to me. So, Kirk leaves us on a planet that conveniently goes to the seven hells in six months. Of course, there was no way that he and his amazingly advanced technology could know this. And, of course, there is no reason to expect he would send help or even check on us somewhere in the next century. Has it ever crossed your naive mind, my dove, that Kirk has told no one of our existence? That we are absolutely alone, marooned here for all eternity? This is his gift to us. This is his _mercy_." He sneered.

Suddenly, he seemed to relax again, his rigid muscles sinking into quiet apathy. He reached forward, drawing his fingers through her fading red hair. Marla closed her eyes, reaching forward herself to touch his black locks, pulling it back from the face that haunted her most beautiful dreams and her worst nightmares.

"And this is your reward, my dove," was it only desperate hope that made her hear the sadness in his voice? Was he sincere, or was it yet another of those games he loved to play with human passion? "You are the flower that chose the summer sun over the rich soil you were born in, and it has burned you. Sometimes I wonder what you think about all this, but I do not ask. There is…something…that lies between us…" his voice grew thoughtful, searching.

Marla opened her eyes, cupping his chin in her palm. "I don't mind…I have enough."

He smiled, his brown eyes glinting with the magic of an Indian fairytale, the sparkle of a prince, and the fire of a palace courtyard. Beauty and civilization that had held back the jungles of India for over a thousand years. But it had not been completely successful.

Beneath the statues of powerful gods, there was the terror of the lurking tiger. Behind the paintings and frescos of stories wonderful beyond man's imagination, there was superstition and whispers of the evil that lurked in the darkness beneath the trees. Echoing under the singing chants of the people, there was the howl of the beast.

There was a beast in Khan, made of the passions and temper that were natural to him, but genetically enhanced by scientists seeking to create the perfect human being. Marla saw it, and it horrified and terrified her. Yet there was also strength, beauty, even goodness …and she fell in love with him. She was trapped with him now on a dying planet, with nothing to save her from the beast, and no one to show her how to find the man.

She had chosen this path, and she had to walk it. But at least, she reflected, as they fell asleep in each other's arms, at least she would not walk it alone.

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Khan wiped the sweat from his forehead with his bare arm, dropping the useless, rusted metal panel he had been dragging. It fell to the ground with a thud, bringing up swirling clouds of sand. As he trudged towards the storage compartment he and Marla called home, he saw her sitting on a rug in front of the door. He could always spot her red hair on the desert, no matter how far away it was.

As he got closer, he looked at what she was doing. Her thin, nimble hands were trying to mend the holes in one of his few, precious shirts. Not many of his people bothered to do that, especially the young men, who were happy to burn themselves if it meant they could show off their fantastic physique. Marla had forced herself to learn to sew by pulling the threads out of older rags, attaching them to sharp pins and poking them through the rent fabric, trying to keep the ever-widening fissures together for a just little while longer.

They had food, blankets, and emergency medical kits, but for some forsaken reason, clothing had not been supplied in large amounts. Which was, Khan thought sarcastically, _fantastic_, since no clothing would ever last long here, anyway.

She looked up as he approached and smiled at him in welcome. Her mouth was no longer painted with lipstick, and no eyeliner or blush was layered over her tanned skin. Her hair, once a brilliant, fiery red, had faded ever so slightly under the constant changes of hot and cold weather, burning sun and acid rain.

But her eyes still sparkled, and her smile retained the fresh, heart lifting sweetness it had always held for Khan. It was still the treasure he sometimes fought to earn, the treasure he would lock away in his mind's eye to warm his heart when it was heavy.

Crossing his legs, he sat down beside her, pulling the shirt from her hands and tugging it experimentally. "A good job, as always. This will hold for another day, perhaps," he joked, sticking a finger through another hole carelessly. The wasteland was hard on fabrics.

Marla smiled again at his sally, but her eyes were very far away and pensive, as she stared out over the dusty horizon. Khan frowned, looking at her as he dropped the fabric on his knees. "What troubles you, woman?"

She hated it when he addressed her as 'woman'. Khan knew that very well, which was why he did it. Her unhappy mood irritated him because it made him uncomfortable, which of course meant it was all her fault.

"I'm…I always want to be honest with you, Khan," she said finally, dragging her large blue calf-eyes back to his, "you've protected me and married me and, well, done no more than you promised," _but your heart? Is it truly mine…can it truly be anyone's?_ "But last month…I realized I was pregnant."

He froze; his hands gripped hard on the shirt; the fabric squeaked in agonized tension. He instinctively looked at her thin, flat stomach, so obviously devoid of life, than up at her face. When he spoke, his voice was low, thick, and hard. "A child?"

She nodded, swallowing. The dull, glazed over look in her eyes was rapidly filling over with moisture. She sniffed, lips tightening in a violent effort not to tremble. "Early this month, I realized it. Then I caught that fever…and the baby was gone."

Fever. Gone. A simple illness, and his child had died. His own thoughts from what seemed ages ago crashed like a cymbal in his brain, _could her fragile body bear my children?_

Well, it seemed now he had his answer.

The patter of tiny feet, bright little eyes, hands reaching up to him for nourishment, protection, affection….a child to carry on his bloodline and his name, a reason to live on in this death trap, all lost…because his _weak_, _**fragile**_ wife had a fever!

"You." The rage spun up through his chest, temper flaring as he threw the shirt hard on the ground, nearly smacking it into her face accidentally. Her entire body jerked away, startled, as she gave a breathless gasp of shock.

"You lost my child! You let him die! This is what I get…this is my reward for taking you to wife! A brittle, flimsy, inferior creature, and I am stuck with her for all eternity!" His voice echoed across the desert.

Marla flinched away from him, her face jerking away in the slightest motion of a startled bird. But she met his gaze again in an instant, her tear streaked face flushing with what, Khan recognized with surprise, was rage. She flung herself forward onto her hands, causing _him_ to flinch away. On all fours in a 'fight or flight' position, her face level with his from where he sat, she dug her nails into the sand, grinding them together. "Don't. Blame. _Me_!" she hissed. Her thin hand clenched into a fist and she raised it as if she would hit him with it. For a minute, Khan thought she would. "I…I loved my baby _too_!"

"Woman!" He protested, hoping to calm her down with a show of stern displeasure, using the name he knew she hated.

"Beast!" She spat back, violently hauling her thin body to stand above him, "it was _my_ baby too!" Then she ran, dodging some Augments who came toiling into camp with a huge sheet of scrap metal, probably peeled off an abandoned cargo bay.

Khan pulled himself to his feet and stumbled around them, craning his neck as he ran, hoping to get a glimpse of Marla before she disappeared into the desert, the huts, or wherever women went to cry…he had lost his wits for only a moment when he saw the fury in her face, but when he finally shoved past the confused Augments, he realized it was a moment too much. She was gone.

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Marla was gone for so long that Khan had actually considered sending a search party out for her…despite his better judgment that it was a weakness and a waste. There was no living thing out there, except perhaps the ghosts of the Augments who had been caught by the initial blast, buried alive in burning, freezing sand even as the moisture was sucked out of their bodies, their souls…leaving them to wander the deserts as sad, shriveled spirits that wailed across the empty, endless sands.

Dark thoughts, fairytales fit only for his native India…Khan shrugged them away. He resumed his restless pacing, glancing outside to where Marla now sat, cross-legged, on a pile of supply cartons. The sharp breeze lifted her red hair up and down, and the mere sight of it wriggling around like a living thing in the setting sunlight was enough to wipe away the faces of the dead from Khan's mind.

He should approach her. He should bring her inside before it got much colder, or a storm settled in, as the swelling horizon seemed to threaten. Maybe he should announce dinner early. Bah! That was ridiculous. She was his wife, and she should obey him.

However, short of throwing her over his shoulder, he was unsure how to make her.

He paused, throwing an arm up and leaning against the doorframe of the cargo bay, ignoring the creaking sound. _There she is, the thin, delicate child of my future, the offspring of a diluted humanity that has spread itself so thinly across the stars, integrating hordes of aliens into its society, government…even its bloodstream! And what has she gained by all that? She sits there, small against the violence of a desert world…a world of death. A world…that could be…too much even…no, not quite too much. Almost too much for my Augments. We will survive._

_But she?_ He subconsciously flicked away the knotted black hair from his face, as the wind tossed it about, penetrating the much warmer atmosphere of the cabin. _She has no chance…no more chance than a snowflake in this desert. And yet I have taken her in. I bound myself to this woman, and she has shared my exile…my execution. I am bound to her, because she is my wife. _

Almost against his will, his eyes moved to her lower back, his imagination beholding the child that was once carried safely inside her. _A son. My son. A child that carried my bloodstream…mingled with __**hers**__. _

Had Marla thought of this? Khan had never even stopped to consider how this loss…however much her fault, would affect her. Mothers were always especially fond of their children; the normal ones, at least. Khan's mother he had never known. She did not love him enough to keep him by her side, but she did him perhaps the greatest favor in the world when she donated him, body and soul, to the Eugenics Program. Khan would never forgive her for the first, and he would never thank her for the second. It was a point in his mind he had fully settled and stored away: his mother.

And now, Marla was a mother. The mother of a child without a name, whose entire life, brimful of possibility, glory, and beauty had been sliced off, ripped out like a root from the earth, denied to Marla as surely as it had been denied to Khan. Not even a marked grave could they build for his lost son, for a tombstone lasted no longer than the blink of an eye before it was buried, buried miles below their feet in the dry, whistling sand, burying his child and all knowledge of it, leaving only another ghost among thousands…

_Gods,_ he cursed angrily, _why do I keep thinking on the dead?!_

Some evenings, sometimes, when all the work was done and his body was left empty, all his fantastic store of energy taxed out of him by life on this dead planet, he indeed almost felt like a ghost himself, so light and empty that he could flit away on the wind and wail, wail eternally with dead spirits. But he must not think of that. He could go mad.

His baby. Marla. Motherhood. Did she miss her child?

_"I…I loved my baby **too**!"_

Her words, before she had gone berserk. He remembered them now. Yes, Marla was hurting too. She was weak and sentimental, even more so than most human beings he had met. He should not have expected her to understand the full gravity of his loss, not when it was still so fresh for her.

He had been…what was the word? Hasty? Unwise?…Inconsiderate?

He would not worsen the damage he had already done. Marla was feeble in mind and body, but she had pride. If she had no other good quality, at least she had pride. That was something Khan could appreciate.

So he would spare her pride and soothe her hurt and bring her inside before she damaged herself by sitting outside in the approaching storm. She would not be able to sit through the tempest for long until the winds and the stinging sand drove her inside, but before that happened the sand-laden air could become so thick that she would never find the door in time and be buried alive.

He strode out, his heavy-duty boots sinking up to his ankles in sand. Although she was sitting on a thick, trilanium bound crate, his head still came just above hers as he stood behind her.

She knew he was there. He could tell by the shift in her shoulders, the simply, barely perceptible change in the aura that surrounded them both. She didn't say a word.

Khan's lips pursed slightly as he tried to gather his thoughts, rather wishing she _had_ spoken first. It would have been easier, not to mention less humiliating. He stared at her red hair, watching the very last rays of sunset bouncing off it like ripples of gold. His face softened. _My wife, my beautiful, beautiful Marla._

Standing straight and tall, almost protectively, over his little wife, looking out over a desert realm…for a split instinct, he forgot he was a doomed man trying to wrestle existence from the death-grasp of a barren rock. He was a ruler of Earth, a man of power who had found a precious flower from paradise that was all his own. He felt generous, like a prince. Suddenly, it all became easier.

"Marla," he said softly, "I was, perhaps, somewhat careless in what I said earlier. The baby…boy or girl, would have been most welcome. Would have been most beautiful. When I heard that it was dead…_a simple fever_," he whispered to himself, as if unable to believe it.

Marla's shoulders stiffened; Khan could sense more anger and hurt, rising like the heat that filled the flimsy cargo bays every afternoon. Alright, so Marla was refusing to take any blame in this matter. Obstinacy. He liked that. He could afford to indulge her just this once.

"I admit that it is not your fault. We must…we must recover from this loss together, you and I…Marla," he put one of his big, brown hands on her shoulder. She moved under his touch, flowing with it as she turned around in one fluid motion, her back to the storm. The wind now blew her hair in front of her face, but Khan could see the blue eyes staring at him, judging, sparkling, and burning.

Khan swallowed. "Marla, I am truly sorry for you…as sorry as I am for myself. I am sorry you lost your baby…our baby."

Marla's face was still silent, still blank, except for the storm of emotion that flared in her eyes. She listened to every word and saw them for the blanket they were…but what did they cover? _Can't you even say you loved the baby? Can't you say you love __**me**__? Do you love me?_

Khan's face flushed with irritation at her continued silence and confusion at her prolonged scrutiny. "Are you listening to me, Marla?"

Finally, something in Marla sputtered to life. Her shoulders lost their rigid stance, and the animation of constant sorrow, broken dreams, and eternal hope flooded her face; her lips parted, "The baby…he was all fire, Khan." _My baby, the baby I will never see again. I felt life beneath my heart, touching me as nothing else could. So much beautiful, fiery life…then nothing. _She blinked back her tears, studying the face of the man she loved, the man who hurt her so very much. Beautiful but untouchable, like the flames of a temple, august, mysterious and harsh, utterly inhuman and forbidding. "He was all fire…like you."

_"He is all fire," the tall, thin-faced woman says, turning the baby over with gloved hands as it screams at her, screams at the strangeness of it all._

"_He will do very well," replies the other scientist, the man with the cold fingers and hard eyes._

Khan smiled, pleased by what he perceived as a compliment. His wife once again admired him; all was well. But the smile was sad, for all that. "Indeed, he would have been beautiful…but I still have you, my beloved," he held out his arms for her; she went into them, into the one refuge she could find on the entire planet besides the confines of her own mind. And for one moment, clasped in his embrace, feeling him, smelling him, exotic and wild and strong and wonderful, _feeling_ as if he loved her…she could pretend all was well.

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Marla struggled over the sand dunes, avoiding the rocks that pushed out of the ground as if they were especially made for ankle breaking. Her boots scraped over hard surfaces before sinking into a sea of dust. She and one of the Augments had been tasked with repairing the electro borders.

The fence, once deemed such a useful tool for their future settlement, was now no more than a comet of civilization, a symbol of what they had once had, destined to burn itself out. No more energy could be spared from the ship itself to recharge the power packs, but Khan had decreed that, while the fence lasted, they would use it. Dying mutants and starving predators still dragged themselves in from heaven knew where, desperate to nourish themselves with human flesh.

The constant winds, however, made it extremely difficult to keep the fence in one piece. Boulders moved during the night, creating a never-ending, always-shifting maze for the Augments to struggle through, with only the frequently shrouded stars and sun as their guides. Many large rocks crashed into the fence at regular intervals, damaging the circuits and bending the ironmeta bars.

It was hard for Marla not to stare at her companion; a tall, muscular, attractive woman with honey-blonde hair, emerald eyes, and a wide, strong smile. But that was nothing, nothing at all compared to the baby on her back.

They reached the fence in silence, except for the squealing, spitty shrieks of excitement from the baby that seemed to reach Marla's tortured ears even through layers of protective fabric. Her empty arms felt all the weaker because there was nothing warm and alive to burden them.

The intrusion on the fence was a boulder. Thankfully not too big, being only as high as Marla's waist and twice as wide. But it would take a special jack with wide pedals to keep it from sinking into the sand, and someone had to lift up the rock in order to allow the jack to be slipped underneath.

Elizabeth, the Augment, swiftly and silently volunteered by pressing her shoulder to the hard surface, carefully keeping her baby away from the boulder. Then, with the exciting, impressive show of strength that all Augments were capable of, she heaved upwards, lifting it a full two inches off the ground. But that was as far as she could go; already, her legs were trembling. One impatient, imperious glance from those flashing green eyes was enough to make Marla almost rip open the pack, dry fingers feverishly sorting through hard tubes that clanked together as she selected just the right one.

She shuffled on her knees through the sand, red material slowly filmed over by dust as she unfolded the jack and pushed it over, yanking awkwardly at her hair by accident as she secured it under the rock. She wasted precious seconds trying to untangle her red tresses.

"Marla! Move it!" Elizabeth snapped, grunting at the strain. It took strength of will to keep her voice from breaking into a shriek.

Marla finally scooted back on her knees. "Alright! Let it down!"

The boulder came down swiftly, almost too swiftly. The jack creaked under the weight that pressed it inexorably into the sand, but it held. Elizabeth stepped back on light, stringless legs and dropped heavily to a sitting position. The baby began to fuss, and she shifted her shoulders comfortingly while giving Marla a demanding look that spoke volumes.

Marla came forward again and grabbed the handle, pumping it up and down, eyes glancing upwards uneasily as the boulder, looking huge from that particular angle as it loomed over her, began to rise.

Aching muscles that were small, far too small for what she was compelling them to, do began to pull and tear. Sweat trickled down her neck as an ache twinge throbbed dully through her back. The air seemed hotter and far too thin, but under Elizabeth's scornful eyes, she forced herself to continue. Something pulled in her wrist, leaving her with the kind of pain she knew would last for days.

Marla was angry with herself. She had lived on this planet for almost a year now. She should be able to do this! She should have the strength!

Elizabeth stood up, weariness forgotten. "Stop now," she ordered.

Marla stopped. Elizabeth pressed herself to the rock and took a deep breath. Her back arched, heels digging into the sand as she willed the boulder to move, pushing it over the tiny point of perfect balance and causing it to crash backwards with an earth-splitting groan, the dust flying in curling clouds as it landed with a thud.

Now that the barrier-path was free, they could repair the fence itself, thus reelectrifying the entirety of it. Marla sighed as she folded up the jack and stuffed it into the heavy, thick pack.

Elizabeth nearly shouldered her off her feet as she knelt beside her, sorting through the equipment with feminine hands that were terrifyingly strong. "You find the work difficult, hmm?"

Sitting in the sand like a defeated toad, Marla nevertheless bristled at the mocking tone. "The work isn't what I find difficult. It's the self-satisfied, she-hulk company."

Elizabeth's blue eyes stormed. "You have quite a tongue, with _Khan_ as your protector!" she snarled. Her hand grabbed Marla's arm painfully, jerking Marla's body forward like a rag doll. The baby on her back gave a whimper, and Marla's eyes teared up; more from the pain of remembrance than the vice-like grip on her arm.

Elizabeth saw it; her new motherhood having granted her a level of perception not common among the Augments. It was the kind of perception that allowed her to understand, even sympathize with the feelings of others. She knew Marla had lost her baby. She felt the warmth of her own child on her back with a newfound gratitude, because she had not lost hers.

Elizabeth eased off the pressure, letting Marla sit back gently to nurse her arm. She smiled ruefully, "we Augments have a hasty temper, Marla, a temper that can easily kill you. A sharp tongue is not what we need right now."

"And I really don't need mockery right now…but you're right, I should be more careful in what I say. I don't know what came over me…I think his Excellency is rubbing off on me," Marla ended bitterly.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. This was something she could not understand. "Any woman in the camp would be honored to marry Khan…some of them would kill their own husband, and you, if it would make it possible."

"But why?! What's there to love about him?!" Marla hissed.

The Augment smirked, "surely, you would know that better than I, you who betrayed your ship for his sake after knowing him for only a few hours."

"I was crazy," Marla said at last, eyes downcast, "I have no idea what came over me."

"I don't blame you," Elizabeth grinned, "He has eyes that just…_burn_ through you…warmth that makes you shiver…such shoulders, such breadth of chest…"

"How can you be so shallow?!" Marla snapped, remembering how she had sold herself so quickly, with no idea of what she had been doing. On looks alone. Looks alone! How could she have been so _stupid_?!

Elizabeth merely laughed, throwing back her head in that arrogant gesture so common to the Augments. Marla wanted to bury her head in her hands, to shut out an image that was fast becoming a nightmare.

But suddenly, Elizabeth stopped. Like a pricked tigress, she stood, slipping the baby off her back and slinging it gently to the ground with one hand while snatching up a blaster with the other. Her green, crystal eyes flashed once at Marla, ordering her to be still and silent. Without asking, Marla scooped up the baby and held it to herself protectively.

They were no longer Augment and human. They were two women defending themselves and a child from the harsh world around them.

Elizabeth turned around just in time to catch the hurtling, roaring form of a creature that seemed to magically appear in the air above her. Larger than a full-grown man, covered in shaggy black hair, its eyes almost neon green, it came down upon her, claws extracted. Elizabeth gave a cry of challenging rage and aimed the blaster…

The beast fell on her and, with terrible strength, as easily as a boy tearing the wings off a fly, ripped her arms off. Sand sprayed Marla as Elizabeth was crushed onto her back by the weight of the creature, screaming. Something flopped against Marla's face, bounced against the baby's skull, and dropped lifelessly into the dust.

It was Elizabeth's arm. The phaser was still clutched by the cold, white fingers that had squeezed Marla only a few seconds before. Marla yanked the phaser out of the death grip and aimed it at the struggling mass of flesh and fur, trying to block out the animal growls that completely muffled the frantic, blood-clogged sobs of agony from Elizabeth; praying that her shaking hand could aim straight…

She fired. A purple glow spreading out to burn mercilessly through the beast. Red blood spattered her face as the creature collapsed, pulling its teeth out of Elizabeth's arteries, leaving the bloodstream free. There was blonde hair on its muzzle.

The baby began to cry.

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Marla didn't remember exactly how she reached home. She only remembered walking, the blood drying on her face, sticky and warm as the whirling, floating dust clung to it. The baby was still sobbing, but Marla made no move to comfort it. She poured all her energy into making each foot move, making each step, blocking out all thoughts.

But then, her boot slammed against hard metal, a crate. She shuffled on, right through the garbage pile as she scattered rags and papers about. She just kept moving, somehow hoping to find a wall that would collide with her head and put her out of her misery.

Instead, strong arms grabbed hers like vices, nearly making her drop the baby. "Marla! Gods, what has happened? Where's Elizabeth?"

Was that worry? Concern? She laughed. She could even think of that, when Elizabeth was lying in a little pile of human remains, blanketed by a monster from space, still smoking from the phaser blast…and she could think on her failed marriage, with an orphan in her arms and blood on her face! She threw back her head and laughed in Khan's face, hysterical, blind to the horrified concern that was writhing in those fiery brown eyes, the worry that marred that strong brow.

He shook her, still trying to get some sense out of her, "Marla! Where is Elizabeth?! What has happened to you?!"

Marla's voice pierced the air, suddenly light and squealing, like a teenage girl's, "Dead…and I killed it!" Somehow, on the word 'killed', her voice dipped savagely, tearing her throat as it clawed its way out. She had killed.

_Oh, what a day. __**Dear Lord**__. So tired.__** Elizabeth's dead. **__Save me.__** I can smell her blood.**__ I'm falling._

She fainted away, collapsing into Khan's bare, sweaty arms. Taken completely by surprise, he fumbled, one arm wrapping around the infant in a frantic effort to keep it from falling.

Joachim rushed forward and neatly slipped the infant into his arms, backing away as Khan put his arm behind Marla's limp knees and swooped her up. Barely pausing to give him a dark-eyed glance of gratitude, Khan rushed into the closest cargo bay.

_So light,_ he mused vaguely, ducking his head as he entered the doorway, _she's so light_. _I wonder what she met out there…what happened to Elizabeth._

Khan had a warrior's instincts, and he knew death when he saw it, even as a phantom in the face of a witness. There was virtually no chance of finding Elizabeth's remains, and even less of finding her alive.

_Elizabeth. The blonde beauty, we called her, at that last dinner together before we left Earth 200 years ago. So full of life, flirting with Teuton, boasting of the beautiful children she would bring into our world, children she said, who would dazzle us, put us to shame…she boasted like a true Augment, like a true leader. She was fearless. To my face, she said she would follow me…until someone better came along. I thought her to be heartless and cold as she was dazzling._

_But then she cried when she realized Teuton had been caught in the death of our world…and I realized she had a heart._

He laid Marla out on the bed, pausing only to lay a hand on her forehead, to check for fever. She was exhausted, but she would survive until he came back. He raced outside, barking out orders for several Augments to come with him, and at least one to stay with Marla and the baby.

Then, he set off along the fence line, forging a path into the desert to bring Elizabeth…or her body…home.

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Khan sat on a boulder at the foot of one of the mountains, his leg propped up as he used a knife to smooth out the wooden shaft of what seemed to be a spear. There was nothing to hunt on Ceti Alpha, nothing left alive on a planet that had once held more species than Khan could name. It was impossible to believe that this was the same world; that the desert that stretched out before him had once been a lush, green valley with a wet, shining river rushing through it.

Even the mountain that stretched above him was utterly changed…the trees, the bushes, the grass…it had been stripped off in layers, leaving only the hard skeleton of rock to bake beneath the sun, baking until it split and cracked with the heat.

So why was he making a spear? Making a wooden spear in a world where wood was almost as rare as water, and the only thing he could plunge it into was the heart of a fellow human being?

Because he needed to. He needed, just this once, to do something unnecessary, something normal, not because he had to...because he wanted to. It was a weakness, however insignificant, and left Khan feeling slightly guilty whenever he gratified it.

He was not alone. Joachim, his second in command as well as his closest friend among the Augments, was standing on the ground a few feet away. He was tearing the old fibers out of a water filter so it could be reused. Tedious work but necessary since their supply of filters was so small. He was facing the low sun of the late afternoon, his back turned towards Khan.

Khan glanced up at him; being around Joachim often felt safe. However, Khan often got angry with himself for this, for being dependent on him. For the same reason, he never let himself depend on Marla. For the same reason, he never depended on anyone but himself.

"Going to spear a boar, Excellency?" Joachim's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Khan almost smiled as he sliced harder at the wood. "Perhaps. If I can find one that eats sand, my friend."

Joachim grinned. He scratched behind his ear as he turned around. "And if you cannot?"

Khan raised his eyebrows. "Then _we_ will be eating sand tonight."

Joachim snorted. As he crossed his legs and dropped down to sit in the sand, a cloud of dust rose up around him. As it settled and Joachim's features cleared, Khan was vaguely reminded of the Eugenic Wars, when he single handedly killed the Emperor of the Americas and Joachim had used thick smoke and a knife to destroy the twelve guards outside.

They had always been allies, he and Joachim. They had met as boys growing up in the Eugenics program, but never thought much of each other. It was when Joachim later came to him in Asia with his own force from Spain and offered his services…that was when their alliance _(Friendship)_ started.

Joachim had killed whomever Khan ordered, provided he explained why. It was always the same. Joachim almost invariably sided with Khan, but required the attention and respect of an equal. He would not serve blindly. He would die for Khan with his eyes open. The only question Khan had never been able to answer was, why?

"All those years on Earth…" He said finally, causing Joachim to look up at him, "Why did you ally with me? When every Augment was out for himself, climbing to the top over a pile of thousands dead, why did you choose me as your leader?"

Joachim was silent for a moment. Then he turned his attention back to the filter. "You were my best option."

"I had the smallest holdings, the weakest army! Even Marie held more power than I! What kind of option is that? How could you possibly have known I would become a prince of millions?" Khan's brown eyes sharpened, gazing at Joachim with fond searching.

"I didn't," Joachim replied shortly, "I knew I had to work with someone. To hold power alone is fatal. I knew, when I met you, that you were the one I had to follow."

"You met me during a political execution," Khan smirked, returning to the spear as he carved the end into a point.

"I met you when you spared a man for his mother's sake."

Khan's hands froze. But it took only a moment to regain control. He looked up, and his brown eyes were hard. "Are you never going to let me forget that?"

Joachim reached down to scratch his ankle, but the tension in his neck and shoulders belied a complete focus on the man he spoke to. "You managed something no other Augment ever had before. You showed mercy."

"One moment, one mistake. I never realized you based your choice on sentiment, Joachim. I had thought better of you."

Joachim was completely unfazed. "You have enough voices telling you how strong you are," he said simply, grey eyes tired, "you hardly need me to add to it. I follow you for the sake of another strength I see in you, one that you are blind to. I hope someday you find it…but I will always follow you."

Khan ignored Joachim completely, taking his words and mentally kicking them behind him like a passed soccer ball. He pointed at the other man with his carving knife. "Elizabeth found this 'strength' you speak of, I believe. She learned to show mercy and compassion after the death of Teuton broke her. And now she is scattered throughout the dessert like sand." _She has sunken into the planet like the dust, one more wailing ghost to join the dead._

He dropped his eyes, unable to shake the horrible image of picking up her arms…her bleeding arms, and dropping them in an orange body bag, Listening, _feeling_ it as they flopped against each other in a jumble of flesh, leaving streaks of blood over the mauled face, where the emerald eyes still shone so brightly, staring straight at him almost accusingly as he closed the bag, entombing them in darkness forever.

All around him, echoing in the dark cracks of the rock as they waited for night to fall, he could already hear the ghosts. Dying…people dying had never struck him so hard before. Because now, he was not in control of who died. He had no time to tell himself what a noble cause it was for, to weigh the evil against the greater good. He was no longer a prince making a sad but necessary choice in war…he was a leader, a father almost, watching as everyone who ever trusted in him was ripped away by fate.

They were not distant soldiers. They were names, faces he knew better than his own. Allies, friends…and this possessed planet, this living hell…it took them away, it swallowed them alive, leaving only their shrunken, gibbering spirits to torture his brain. He was not going mad. He could not go mad. Still…_green eyes…blood…eyes staring_…"She always used to ask me which part of her I liked best," he muttered finally, "I had plenty to choose from that day."

Joachim glanced sharply at him, searchingly. Then, the stern look faded out of his face as he seemed to comprehend the very thoughts that were echoing relentlessly in Khan's head. He watched his leader with the helpless, sorrowful look of a man watching someone drown beyond his reach.

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The tiny, underground chamber was walled with rock and floored with sand that had slowly trickled in through the entrance over the years. There was a boiling pool of liquid that occupied one end, slowly painting whatever it touched a ruby red and then eating it away. It filled the cave with a constant murmuring echo that bounced from wall to wall. Two figures blocked up the entrance, cursing and swearing as they tried to pull their large chests through the narrow hole. "This…." Joachim panted as he finally jerked through, dropping heavily to his knees, face filmed over by sweat, "is not worth the effort."

Khan stumbled beside him, ripping out a metal canister from his belt as the unstable sand shifted, a sheet of earth that nearly pulled him down with it. "_I_ say it is worth it. This liquid is the only chemical on the planet that we can possibly analyze and use. Who knows…perhaps someday it could be fuel?"

"Khan…" Joachim tried, feeling a little hopeless, "who has time to analyze?"

"Our wounded and sick," Khan replied sharply, "at least they will not sit idle. We must all push ourselves beyond our strength if we expect to survive. Besides," he added, and for a moment, his brown eyes losing their focus as his face hardened, "it will not hurt them to dream a little."

"You have no hope?" Joachim asked finally, a hand shooting out to steady himself as the cave lurched, the liquid in the bubbling pool beside them splashing dangerously. Joachim hazardously shifted on his knees, moving away from the pit.

Khan swayed with the tremors, using his own weight to readjust his balance. He gave Joachim a withering look. "Do you? Does anyone? I said dreams, not hope." Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he turned urgently to Joachim. "This is not to pass beyond us. They may have given up hope, but to hear me proclaim it would send them into an abyss of despair and insanity. We Augments have always been unpredictable, wild, passionate. Without a unifying dream, all is lost. If I fail to remain strong for them, to lead them in one direction, they will scatter and destroy themselves."

"I understand." That was all Joachim needed to say. Khan knew he'd keep that promise.

Khan bent down and leaned forward, dipping the metal flask into the pool, his eyes screwed almost entirely shut as steam billowed into his face. A drop of sweat ran down his nose. The liquid hissed and screamed as it touched the cool surface of the canister and then rushed inside, frothing.

He sat back, careful to shuffle far enough so that his boots didn't accidentally slip in the sand and touch the poisonous acid. Keeping the canister away from his body, he slipped the lid on and set it down hard in the sand, waiting for the liquid on the outer casing to dry before he dared to handle it. It still made him queasy to think he would be carrying this close to his hip on the journey back.

"Who is strong for you, Khan?" Joachim asked suddenly.

Khan looked up, brow furrowed. "Something about this planet has changed you, Joachim. You speak like a soul searcher, like a man closer to death than life. You speak, to be frank, like a fool."

Joachim merely laughed. "Yes, it has changed me. When death is the only future to look forward to, you begin to wonder more about it. About the afterlife that follows, and whether you are worthy to embrace that afterlife. Whether your friends and loved ones will meet you there."

Khan paid the words only slight attention. "Oh, now you are talking religion. That is enough for me," he said in mock horror, raising his eyebrows at Joachim as he stood up.

Joachim sneered at him and straightened, getting on his feet. He gave the acid pit a good look, wincing as a particularly large bubble burst, spraying hissing, steaming drops everywhere. "If you come back here again, take someone else. I will not run from death, but I would rather not court it."

"And if I say you _will_ come?" Khan teased.

Joachim was eager to play this game. Khan had not done anything this lighthearted in too long a time…it was good for both of them, like old times, when they wrestled in the royal palace, fell off the balcony and landed in the pigsty. Which had happened more than once. "Then I will throw you over the Botany Bay, your Excellency."

Khan's hands clenched into fists, but he was smiling. "I would like to see you try, Joachim the Willow."

Joachim remembered the pit that bubbled dangerously beside them. He pointed at Khan's chest. "I will gladly try…out in the desert. Remember that day you over-ate and I easily won our match?"

Khan frowned at the memory, but even _his_ sensitive pride could not be hurt by his old friend. A dangerous yet sparkling glint danced in his eyes. "There is no danger of overeating here."

Joachim laughed again. Then, the cave vomited. Sand spilled as the walls quivered wildly. The bubbling, frothing pool agitatedly swept upwards towards them. The canister tipped, the lid opened. The grayish white stream splashed onto Khan's foot.

Khan swore wildly, jerking away from the canister as he cried out in surprised, enraged pain. He stepped back unthinkingly. His heel shot out into empty air, and he lost balance. For a split second, he was frozen in that horrible place between stability and obliteration. And then he began to fall. Horrified, hands reaching out for something, anything. He felt burning heat on his back.

Two hands latched onto the front of his shirt, tearing it, yanking him upwards. Joachim. But as he pulled him, his own feet slipped on the sand as the feeble traction gave way under the added weight. He fell hard onto his back, Khan almost on top of him.

Then he slid.

Reflexively, instinctively, Khan snatched Joachim's hand, nearly getting torn along with him down into the acid pool. He dug his heels in, arm muscles bunching, but it was all too late. Joachim gave a spine-raking scream as he sunk up to his waist in the acid.

Khan smelled roasting flesh. "Joachim!"

Grey eyes, rimmed by red, dilated with pain and confusion, met his. Burned lips, gargled voice, "Khan…"

"_No!_ Pull, curse you, _pull_!" Khan roared, throwing all his power into rearing upwards, not even thinking about the fact that he might as well be pulling out half a corpse, a man already dead.

But it didn't help anyway. Something, he had no idea what, was steadily, irresistibly pulling Joachim deeper. He held on, fingers digging painfully into the other man's wrist as he sunk to his belly. "Joachim…" Khan whispered suddenly, as if speaking to a sleeping child, "pull."

"I can't…nothing lef..ft…" Joachim had froth coming out of his mouth. His body was rapidly deteriorating, rotting, but his eyes were so terrifyingly bright, so terribly _alive_. One arm sunk, just sunk into the acid, falling off at the shoulder.

"_NO!_" Khan held on. Sweat _(tears)_ left pale tracks across his face. "Not you! My right hand…my friend…"

Joachim blinked, mouth open, gasping as his shoulders were swallowed up with a hiss of steam. His grey eyes literally shaking with agony, suppressed agony that was too powerful for him to even scream. And yet, at Khan's words, there was the slightest answering pressure in his grip. He looked straight at Khan, and he smiled.

Then he disappeared, his face collapsing into sheets of flesh that dissolved into smoke.

Voice tore out of Khan's throat, ravaging it, emptying his chest, roaring like a beast as he realized what was happening. His hand was like stone. He would not let go. He could still pull him up…

The weight of the dead body pulled his right hand into the acid up to his wrist. He felt the burning agony that ate all the way to his bones and reared up on his knees with a scream, clasping the smoking wrist between his knees, coughing on the scent of burning flesh. He bowed his head, trying not to listen as the pool bubbled mockingly at him. He tried not to think of how much the man had meant to him.

And Joachim was sucked down, always down, always buried, to join the dead ghosts of Ceti Alpha VI.

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"What happened?" Marla asked softly, watching Khan's face carefully as he pulled a thick black glove over his mangled hand. Khan and Joachim had gone out into the desert, searching for the acid pits. They should have been back before the day ended; Khan had returned two days later, alone.

He did not look at her. "What do you think?" He said it almost nonchalantly, as if she was stupid for asking, "Joachim is dead."

She blinked. "Oh." What could she say? She knew he _needed_ someone to say something, but what? She felt so far away from him, so unconnected. She was married to him, and yet she didn't know what she could say that could possibly ease his burden. He probably wouldn't even appreciate the attempt.

But she had to try. Because no matter what troubles lay between them, she still loved him. Because she wanted to help him. Because she knew how close he had been to Joachim. And now there wasn't even a body to bury. "I'm sorry."

Khan's voice was brittle. He turned around so she could not see his face as he pulled on his thick desert robes. "_He _is not," he snapped, slamming the door open, "He wanted to see the afterlife, after all!"

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_I do not see ghosts. I **hear** them. Elizabeth, Teuton, Hanz. Joachim. I hear them wailing forever in my head, all of them lost under my care, sucked down deep into Ceti Alpha, sucked down and absorbed. Buried alive. Under miles of sand. Buried until only the ghost could survive, ripping out of the body and fluttering over the sands, wailing. I am not mad. I will not listen to them, even if I hear them. _

_I must be strong._

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**_Author's Note: I did mention that the purpose of this tale is to tear Khan apart and then rebuild him, didn't I? _**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Notes: Special thanks to qenie and pigtailedgirl (Guest), both for taking the time to read this and actually commenting...I'm flattered and I appreciate your attention to a story I never expected to get much publicity at all. You rock. :)_**

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"It should not be this HARD!" Khan bellowed, pacing from one side of the room to the other.

Marla's red hair was tied behind her head and tightly braided. She was grateful, as it kept it from smothering her steaming, sweating face and neck. She pushed her head back into the pillow, eyes closed, meditating. When her lips parted, her voice was very quiet. "It's coming, Khan. Be patient."

"But why didn't you tell me?!" he snapped, fingers working nervously as he slung an arm over the crude, metal bookshelf.

A tear of pain trickled out of the side of Marla's eyes, making a small, white line on her pale face. "I didn't want to disappoint you again."

"Ah, thank you! It makes me feel so much better when my wife collapses in my arms out of nowhere. Marla! You must tell me these things! I do not like to be surprised!"

"I know," Marla submitted meekly, just wishing her very worried, very upset, and very _loud_ husband would just _shut up_.

Khan's face softened ever so slightly at her tired, exhausted tone. However, it was only because he noticed that the tension in her body was ten times his own, not because he saw the tear or heard the pain in her voice. He crouched by the bedside. Slowly, she turned her head on the pillow to face his.

Then, a small smile stretched her sweet lips. "You're very…ungrateful, you know that?"

Confusion creased Khan's brow as he frowned. "What?"

"I was too _fragile_ for the first one…" there was just the tiniest hint of bitterness in her voice, "but I'm fighting for this one. Fighting as I've never fought before. It'd serve you right if it killed me!"

The words brought a chill to Khan, a chill he had felt before. He was far too tired of death to appreciate the dark, freezing lump in his stomach. He wanted it to go away. "Nonsense. You will not die from this…all women have done it, since the beginning of creation!"

Breathing heavily, her face shining with sweat, Marla rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Like I didn't know that."

"I thought we had made up about our firstborn," Khan said suddenly, still thinking about what she had said earlier, "I thought we had put it behind us!"

"You had, maybe," Marla sighed, "I never can." Suddenly, she gasped sharply, her hand grabbing at Khan's almost convulsively, snatching it from where it lay on the bed and squeezing hard with the pain. It was his gloved hand. Too surprised to cry out, Khan's eyes shut tightly as the raw nerves entwined around his ruined hand screamed like fire.

But then, to his surprise, Khan found he didn't mind. If it helped…he squeezed back ever so slightly as the agony in his wife's face subsided. Her eyes were glazed over, darting from side to side, unfocused. Her chest heaved up and down, starving for air she was too weak to pull in. Watching her, watching as her body convulsed and then went limp, always hurting…watching her eyes as they avoided him, searching as anyone would for sympathy, if not release…and he was not giving it to her. "I am sorry," he whispered suddenly, not knowing exactly where the words came from, only that they _must_ be said, "I am sorry those words have hurt you so much…that you still carry them with you, after all this time."

Marla stared at him a moment, surprised. Then she shrugged it off, still unwilling to throw herself into what might be yet another sham of affection on his part. "I forgive you."

Khan's pride suddenly snarled at the remark like a demon rising from the fire of a sorcerer. But before he could react in any way, save jerking his hand away, Marla's brown eyes widened. She gasped, "it's coming, it's coming! Get M'dara! Get her!" Her voice ended in a scream.

Khan shouldn't have let it startle him, but it did. He jolted away from the bed, at the same time trying to wrestle back some calm. "M'dara! Marla has need of you!" he called, rushing his sister-Augment in with his hands as she raced past him.

There was a strange, hollow fear in his stomach now, where the lump of ice used to be. It was strange…terrifying, but somehow good. A good fear. But it was also a weakness that came crawling through his limbs, causing him to falter as he paced. Jaw tightening, he crossed his arms and threw back his head, determined to stay strong and not give in to the sudden shaking in his legs.

But he listened. And with each scream, the weakness grew stronger. Because Marla was in pain, and it bothered him. Because a baby was on the way, and that excited him. Because one or both might die, and that terrified him.

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Marla nearly killed herself, but she gave birth to a boy. Her screams, Khan was sure, he would remember until the day he died. They mingled with the wails of the ghosts that rose in his mind like a maelstrom of regret and loss and horror when the desert wall of silence closed around him at night, full of reproach and defeat.

But Marla was alive. The baby was alive, here and now. They were all alive. Khan took a deep breath as M'dara wiped the baby dry and handed it to him.

Khan was cautious. He could bend metal with his hands, but the child in his arms was as delicate as china, and as priceless as life itself. He felt it, soft and small and warm, with life itself so _vibrant _beneath the baby's smooth skin, so alive where it touched his bare arms.

This baby was his. He felt as if something inside him was on fire. Because this was his son.

The pink little hand, so ridiculously weak, lunged out suddenly and grabbed the black finger of Khan's glove, the glove that covered the hand that would never touch his child. A hand that was scarred beyond recognition, muscles and nerves laid bare to the pain of every change in pressure, every fluctuation in temperature. The glove did very little to protect it. It was the atrocious imitation of a human hand. But without fear, the baby pulled it into his mouth, making small gurgles of pleasure as he sucked on it.

Even as Khan smiled, the simple action brought back a memory, however unpleasant.

_Grey eyes, rimmed by red, dilated with pain and confusion, met his. Burned lips, gargled voice, "Khan…"_

_Old friend._

"Joachim," he said the name aloud that had, for the last few months, only brought him hidden pain, a pain he could never show without destroying his pretense of being a strong, unbreakable man, a cold, ruthless man without a heart. The man he believed he had to be if he was to survive. "He will be called Joachim."

Marla pushed herself up on trembling arms. The fact that once again he didn't care what she had to say in the matter upset her. Sick and weak as she was, she wanted to tear herself out of the bed and scream at him. But she couldn't. She realized Khan _needed_ this. That, even if he had been a nice, caring person, he would have needed this. "Joachim it is, then." She said aloud nevertheless, wanting to remind him of her presence.

Khan looked at her suddenly, as if he had just remembered that she was there. Then, as he and Marla stared at each other uncertainly, a smile mellowed his features. Marla lost her breath a little as she remembered that smile on the Enterprise. It was a smile that had pulled the rug out from under her as easily as it did now. It was powerful, charismatic, intoxicating…it seemed to transport her to Earth, to gleaming gold, hordes of dancers, singers, acrobats…to battles won and lost, victorious combat, riches, power…the glowing, starry sky hanging low over a palace garden, breathing in the scent of roses and lilacs…a hand running softly through her hair…

And it reminded her how stupid she'd been. She wondered just how much of it was real, whether there was any love hidden under that smile. She watched him almost warily as he came to sit on the bed beside her, his weight causing it to creak. "He is strong. Healthy. Congratulations, my dove."

The shallow sentiments irritated her. She reached forward and brushed a fingertip over the baby's soft scalp, smiling a little as the golden fuzz swayed away from her touch. "He's blonde."

"Really?" Khan raised his expressive eyebrows as he peered closer at the head. "Ah." He straightened thoughtfully. "My ancestry is pure Indian. Therefore I assume…?"

"My grandmother," Marla supplied, eyes growing dim with memory as she remembered the woman who had raised her and been the driving force that got Marla into the Historical University of Sol. The dear old woman she would never know again. Yet another reason to lament her stupid choice.

Khan held Joachim lengthwise, letting the tiny back rest on his leg as he held the baby secure in large, strong hands that seemed to dwarf the tiny form. There was something in his face…some look Marla couldn't quite place. His fingers kept brushing over the baby's face, touching lips, cheek…even the sensitive eyelids. He did it so delicately that the child barely even noticed. Then, as he wiped a grain of sand off the baby's nose, it sneezed, then blinked with confusion, as if startled by the sound. Khan grinned, amused, tickled even by the idea.

Khan stopped touching the child. His left arm swung out to wrap gently around Marla's shoulders. He did not pull her in. He waited until she lowered herself into his side, her own hand reaching out to brush the soft, golden hair back from the curved forehead.

It was electric, almost, her ear against Khan's chest, feeling how warm and firm he was under the shirt, hearing his heartbeat echo…and touching the warm, tiny, perfect, pulsating child, the love she had felt under her heart now come into being, her precious secret now shown to the world. And Khan was holding the baby from the other side. Marla felt like they were one body, full of love and life and the promise of safety and protection.

Fingers suddenly brushed through her hair. "If it had to be from your family…couldn't it be red?" Khan asked suddenly.

Marla burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. "Give me that!" she growled, taking the baby from him and leaning back into her now cool pillows. "I need to sleep."

Khan got up and put a hand on either side of her as he leaned over, breathing in the smell of her, of their baby, lathered down with the little soap they had left. "For how many years?" He smiled.

Eyes twinkling mischievously, she grabbed his shirtfront. "Just a few thousand centuries. Have dinner ready." And then she pulled him into a kiss.

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Children were being born now, more than several. Boys and girls, new Augments…the pride of their generation, what Khan had once nicknamed the 'hope for the future' in those silly, sad days, those days of hope and promise that were nothing but a dream, before he woke up and realized he was ruling in Hell.

And what were these little ones being born to? His own son, Joachim…Khan would give him anything, would suffer anything if only to raise his child's prospects for a future worth living. But there was nothing to give. No inheritance but Ceti Alpha…the dusty, wailing world of the dead. Someday, when his son was old enough…he too would hear the ghosts.

Khan's stomach clenched on itself with more pain than nausea as he railed at his own helplessness, his inability to at least save the children, to shoot them back into the stars where they could try again, try to find the happiness and supremacy he had failed to give their parents.

_Failure_. That horrible, revolting word that could never be said…must never be admitted. To fail was to be as weak as the humans that had once served him. To fail was to fall forever, to betray himself and all the gifts the Eugenics program had given him. What good were his strength, intellect, charisma…if he couldn't defeat the obstacles placed before him? He was supposed to be _perfect_…and perfection could not fail.

And here he was, Khan Noonien Singh, the greatest, the most _perfect_ of the Augments …drowning in his own failure. Saturated in it. Everyday was a failure, and everyone knew it. They whispered behind his back. Khan did not fear their whispers; he deserved their scorn. He brought them here. He trusted Kirk. He chose to go down to the planet instead of facing a fair fight and execution in the Federation. He gambled with the lives of his people…and _lost_.

He trudged on through the desert, his heavy boots scuffing against scattered sheets of metal that were being used to build a water purifier. They were scarred and stained by the elements, rusty and weak, but there was nothing else. The cargo bays that were in the best condition had to be saved. Those that were falling apart were used for scrap.

He shifted the beam he was carrying, ignoring the slight ache as the heavy pole rolled across his hard, brown shoulder. It was less than a fly bite to him…he had felt much worse in the last few months alone. Casting careful glances to the side to make sure he didn't hit anything, he propped it against a wall.

Christopher came towards him with a measuring stick in his hands. They did not speak; Joachim was the only man Khan had ever felt like talking to during work periods. Now, it was easier to throw himself into the toil of the day, to concentrate on that and forget there were living beings around him, forget that there were potential ghosts floating through the camp.

He turned and moved off in the direction of one of the cargo bays that had a collapsing wall…he would see if he could force it up and reattach it himself. If he couldn't, then the job could wait until some of the other Augments were free from the more necessary tasks. They could always double bunk or head back to the caves.

Before he got there, however, he saw a familiar red head struggling, leaning against the cargo bay for support as she tottered under the weight of a huge bundle of twisted pipes, a handful of the iron skeleton torn from the Botany Bay to support the water purifier. Every piece taken away felt like breaking an extension of a ladder to safety…a ladder that, Khan often fought to remind himself, would never work.

He narrowed his brown eyes at Marla, frowning at her trembling legs and shaky hands as she wiped the dust from her face. Her sand mask had fallen off and was in the sand at her feet, but she was obviously afraid of being crushed by the weight of her burden if she dared to bend over and retrieve it.

Khan strode forward, weariness almost forgotten as it withdrew into his extremities and murmured quietly there. He had other things to think about, such as his strange little wife who insisted on taking heavier burdens than her weakness could bear, _again_.

She saw him coming; a rebellious light flashed in her blue eyes. They had had this argument several times before, and it always ended the same way.

Khan reached for her bundle wordlessly, tugging it away from her. Stubbornly, she tightened her grip and pulled back for a few short minutes, until her already exhausted strength folded up and collapsed. Even at the best of times, she would never win a tug of war with Khan. He hefted it up on his back and stood for a minute, repositioning it.

Then, together, they started walking. "You were taking this where?" Khan asked.

She gazed straight ahead at the sand horizon. "Helena's scraping pit…" she pointed where a woman was standing in a knee-deep ditch, sleeves rolled up all the way to expose brawny muscle as she used a small laser to slice off rusty sections of metal.

"You realize this is too heavy for you?" He asked again, somehow feeling as if he had already lost the argument. This woman's tongue was so stubborn! Sometimes he wondered if he gave her too many liberties.

"I was doing fine until you showed up," she replied, her tone as inviting as acid.

"You are not fit for heavy loads, Marla. You are a mere human and a woman at that."

She rolled her eyes. His jaw stiffened. By the gods, he was just trying to help her! What, was she trying to prove herself? Or just infuriate him? He did not like ordering her around, but he would if he had to. "I do not want you carrying anything heavier than yourself, woman."

"I don't want you to call me woman. Stop that, and I'll stop."

He was tired. He was depressed. And now he was angry. His eyes flashed fire. He almost forgot the load he was carrying when he wheeled on her. "You do not make bargains with me! You are my wife and you will do as I say!"

"Why?!" She snarled back, hands clenched. She was shaking badly, but there was no fear in her eyes. They were glowing almost, utterly free from the chains of human terror, on fire with her own determination to attempt anything, no matter what. It was beautiful.

So beautiful, in fact, that Khan almost lost the argument. He paused, watching as the glow of combat crept into her face and set her eyes sparkling with rage. Even her red hair seemed to rise up on her head and flow in the wind. Marla was on fire. It was as if he had taken a phoenix from the cold, freezing spaceship, where everything was ordered and safe and predictable…and here, on this planet of animal rage and suffering and death…she had burst into flames.

"Why should I do as you say?! I came with you because I _wanted_ to…and I'll only do what you say if I want to!" Marla repeated, her voice reverberating off all the metal sheets around them, creating a miniature echo of her cries.

Khan blinked, his own anger rising again. "You did indeed. You wanted to be my wife, and now you are. Now you shall obey me!"

Marla gave a small, hysterical laugh. Her white teeth flashed in a dazzling grin. "This is going to be such a _short_ marriage!" she turned around and stomped off. Then, as if forgetting something, she faced him again and shook a finger at him, red strands of hair whipping around her head, her face a strange mixture of rage and tears, vexed to the core of her being. "If I'm lucky!"

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Marla shuffled further back on the metal crate, easing the pressure off her tailbone as she flipped the rags over, snipping loose threads from that side and pulling out the small pebbles and sticks that somehow always managed to get embedded in their clothes. No material was safe from it.

The doorway to the cargo bay was open, letting sunlight spill in thickly, sprinkled with golden dust motes that whirled inside. It was useless trying to keep sand out of anything. So useless that Marla simply decided not to care, choosing rather to keep the door open on this sunny, pleasant day when the wind was quiet and the temperature wasn't burning hot…as the atmosphere died, such days were getting fewer and farther between. Marla would enjoy them while they lasted.

There were two large crates to her right, stacked in a column. Three on the left, and the one in the middle, which she sat upon. No one who came in could have seen her without looking straight at her. She felt safe between those two walls, like a bird in a nest, her ever-watchful eye constantly glancing at her little boy, Joachim.

Joachim's bare legs were chubby, but not nearly as fat as she remembered other toddlers' being. He was strong and healthy, but he didn't get nearly as much rich food as he needed to pamper his growing body. She worried about him. Little nagging fears that kept her awake at night, silly nightmares. What if he was always hungry, but didn't cry because his father was teaching him to be strong? Just a baby, not even three years old…but Marla often wondered whether Khan had forgotten that Joachim wasn't a product of the Eugenics program.

He was born to a human mother and (perhaps human) father…he was part of a family, entitled to all the love and nutriment they could give him. There were no scientists to impress, no tests to pass…no strange, self-worshipping ideals being taught. Here, even when death threatened at every turn, he was simply a little boy growing up. And he needed protection, education, and most of all…love.

Even if Khan didn't give him that, Marla was determined that she would. Because Joachi, (wa-kee) as she called him outside of Khan's hearing…was _her_ baby, first and foremost.

She smiled, not even noticing as a stray shard of glass stuck in the fabric sliced through her finger. Sucking the blood absentmindedly, she watched as Joachim tottered over to the beam of light and sat down heavily. With a smile, he banged a metal spoon on the floor, gurgling happily as the sound vibrated slightly through the durasteel floor. The surface was hot, and his face suddenly crumpled up in pain as his legs began to feel it. Still clutching the spoon, he shifted onto all fours and quickly began to crawl out of the light pouring in from the door.

Suddenly, a large shadow dwarfed him. Marla looked towards the door at the same time as Joachim did and she saw Khan standing there. His sand mask was hanging by a strap from his wrist, and his face was forbidding, a dark gloom clouding it. He was exhausted. She could see it by the lines in his face, the unnaturally stiff way in which he carried himself.

Probably digging out another cave in…that usually took the starch out of most of the Augments, especially after going at it for several hours. Khan had been gone since early that morning.

Something in her stomach clenched, seeing her boy so tiny and frail, so small that Khan could easily step on him and kill him if he was so inclined. Indeed, who knew? Khan was sometimes…unpredictable, yelling at her one moment, kissing her the next. She was not his toy. And neither was Joachim. She should pick him up out of harm's way.

But she had barely moved her hands to do so when Khan startled her; as he gazed down at his son, he smiled. Marla felt ashamed at her paranoid thoughts. The creases in Khan's face became laughter lines around his eyes as he unwrapped his mask and tossed it carelessly aside with a clatter.

Crouching down, he picked Joachim up under the arms and swooped him into the air so quickly that the boy could only give a squeal of surprise and drop his spoon before he was suspended between heaven and earth, his feet kicking aimlessly. However, as he recognized who had uprooted him, he managed a breathless greeting, "Fada!"

Khan grinned, a playful, almost mischievous look that Marla could not remember seeing before. "Indeed, it is I, my son. You may touch the roof, if you wish," he said, as he stretched his arms still higher.

Dwarfed by his father's large hands in a seemingly perilous position but feeling absolutely safe, Joachim reached up eagerly and grabbed at the metal rafters, patting them solemnly, running his fingers along nuts and bolts with the rough yet effective curiosity of a toddler.

Khan waited until he was done; then, in a fluid, effortless motion, he tucked Joachim under one arm and bent down to pick up the spoon with the other. Still holding both, he went towards the bed and dropped him there.

Bouncing up and down a little from the fall, Joachim struggled to sit up again, flashing his father an exuberant baby smile that still lacked a few teeth. "Fada pick'm Wa-kee up an' up?"

"It was high, was it not?" Khan began stripping off the heavy coat that acted as protection against the ever-invasive sands and winds. Layer after layer came off, shedding curtains of sand on the floor. Without warning, Khan began tossing them carelessly on top of Joachim, who resurfaced every time, laughing. And every time Joachim laughed, Khan would grin.

When he finished, Joachim struggled to a stand and then plopped himself onto the pile on the bed, like a baby bird in a nest. Brushing his blonde hair out of his face, he began to speak excitedly to Khan, mixing baby words with the half-formed English he already knew.

Sitting down heavily beside the pile, Khan shushed him. "Slower, slower Joachim. Where is your mother?"

For a split second, Marla's heart flew to her throat in the fear that Joachim would point in her direction. Instead, he seemed not to understand. He reached forward, his eyes wide and questioning as he pressed a small, starfish hand against Khan's cheek. "Face."

Khan's smile became more solemn and proud, the look of a teacher. He nodded, "mmhhmm, face. And these?" He pointed at his brown eyes.

Joachim leaned forward and poked his finger into them. Luckily, he was clumsy and slow enough that Khan could see it coming. He closed his eyelids and let the boy's fingers rest heavily there, slightly uncomfortable. "Eye!" Joachim exclaimed. Without waiting for confirmation, he grabbed at Khan's long nose. "Nowse."

Khan smiled, but he kept his eyes closed, as if he was trying to enjoy this moment as much as he could. "Mmmhmmm."

Joachim grabbed at his father's lips, pulling them awkwardly out of position. Marla stifled a giggle. "Mout!" Joachim declared.

"Thaf is cowheffct," Khan spoke on purpose, allowing Joachim's fingers to mangle his words.

Joachim broke into a loud squeal of triumphant laughter. Then he threw himself back onto the rag pile, sliding until he almost hit his head on the wall. With a shout of alarm, Khan quickly caught him and dragged him back across the bed, depositing him on the pillow. Then, slowly, he bent down and nuzzled…actually nuzzled…Joachim's forehead and stomach.

Marla barely believed it.

Joachim suddenly burrowed under the pillow, his short attention span lost. Khan patted the boy's back thoughtfully, completely unaware of his dumbstruck wife hidden behind him. Then he stood up, fetched a book from the cabinet, and strode outside. He too, it seemed, intended to take advantage of the beautiful day before it was lost to them. He wasn't even going to stop for water.

Marla sighed, stretching out her legs. She must go and see to that, just to ensure that her husband would not be suffering any needless thirst. She was also disappointed that the show had ended. To see Khan so close to Joachim touched and warmed her heart. He must only do it when she was not there, which would explain why Joachim wasn't absolutely terrified of his seemingly stern, distant father.

But it also hurt, horribly, because she wondered why Khan couldn't show love to Joachim when others were around…and why he couldn't show love to _her_ at all.

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"Push!" Khan barked sharply, listening with one ear to the painful creaking of metal as it trembled beneath his touch, pulled to the breaking point and even farther than was safe as they tried to make the opening large enough to stick another blade in. The pump engine was proving to be the most difficult item. But Khan wanted to be able to take water up from underneath the sand. He didn't want to tax the stores in the cave, the water that had pooled there over the course of many centuries and was being used up in a matter of decades.

They had one of their own, a professionally built water recycling system from the Enterprise…but it had been destroyed by the sand. It gave less and less water everyday, water that was cloudy and brown and almost undrinkable.

"Push!" He ordered again, calling on the strength of his fellow Augments, the strength that never failed him. Bodies tensed, muscles bunching as they threw themselves forward, panting evenly, utterly silent, like the quiet before a lightning bolt punches the earth.

There were two men in the cistern beside Khan, their fingers white as they pressed against the razor-sharp edge of the propeller, their only protection being thick leather pads tied onto their palms. Behind them, one more was bending over the hole, holding an entire detached blade in his hands as he tried to connect it to the crude, homemade gears within the cylinder.

Then, a sharp, high-pitched squeal vibrated out of the cylinder. A shuddering from the engine.

_Too far._ Khan's mind screamed, _too far!_

With a mind-grating snap, the blade broke off short.

"DUCK!" Khan roared. The men beside him obeyed instantly, almost before he finished the word. They released the piece they were holding and dropped on all fours, below the reach of the blades. Khan could not duck; there was no room. He slammed his back against the wall even as a huge roar shook the entire cylinder. Clouds of dust poured in as leftover water splashed wickedly at his ankles.

And the blades spun to life with a simultaneous, deafening hum…and a human scream. It wasn't a scream of pain; it was a scream of terror. The third Augment, the one right next to the cylinder, was already crouched to reach the engine, where the ground was a foot higher than everywhere else. There was no room to duck. The blade came, and with a wet, cracking sound as blade whistled against bone, the head fell to the ground in a spray of blood.

Khan's hands dug convulsively into the wall as the blade swung round again and sliced towards him. "TURN IT OFF!" He roared, the word breaking off into a scream of surprised agony as it sliced through his abdomen, slitting open skin and breaking rib bones. He slumped downwards in too much pain to care that, in his position, the blade would slice his throat open when it came again.

Heat and light flared brightly against his closed eyelid. He couldn't hear the laser blast over the engine humming, but he knew it had taken out the main power coupling when the rumbling stopped and the earth stood still.

Hands grabbing at the wall, he slid to a sitting position, throwing his head back against the rocks with an audible crack. Raw voice was bubbling up in his throat, begging to be released, just begging him to scream away all the agony. _The pain…not in front of them…hold it…_

A hand grabbed his shoulder. He threw it off, latched onto the wall again and heaved as if his arms were separate entities, unaffected by the bleeding, draining, _burning_ in his stomach…it was so hard to breathe. He forced his eyes open, feeling his fingers go cold. He stared without focus at the head where it lay before his feet, face downwards. Blood pooled on his boots. "I will return…see to him." He said. Or he hoped he said that, clearly and without any loss of control.

He grabbed the edge of the pit to pull himself out, but that was where he lost it. Black spots swum before his eyes as the burning pain flared up through his body, along with the swelling ache as his blood dripped out on the sand. _Oh gods…hurts like the poisoned fangs of Balksah…_

He staggered, face pressing into the cold, sandy stones, scraping his skin. Fresh blood trickled from his cheek onto his lips.

More hands grabbed him and hauled him up. He could not fight them this time. They hauled him forward, leaving his feet on the ground so he could try and walk, something he was grateful for. He heard voices again, low, grudging mutters, a high-pitched voice rising in concern, soft hands wiping the sweat and grime and blood away from his face…Khan recognized the voice. It made him feel safe, because no matter how much he argued with it, no matter how much he angered it, it would never stab him in the back.

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There was no soft, gradual transition from warm slumber to wakefulness for Khan. His eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking even as the brown orbs flitted rapidly from side to side, searching for potential threat.

Even as his mind pulled out of the web of shadows that had held him for what seemed like years, he instantly recalled what had happened, with every gory, colorful detail. His hand grabbed at his stomach, ripping aside sheets as he felt experimentally for the wound. His fingers brushed a thick, upraised ridge where the slice had been. It was hard and dry.

He quickly pulled himself to a sitting position, ignoring the throbs of pain that rushed up his torso. He paused to breathe methodically, in and out, in and out, fighting off the brief wave of nausea.

"You're alright," Marla said suddenly, from somewhere by his side.

He glanced at her, strands of black hair falling over his face as he blinked, disorientated. "How long was I asleep?"

She raised her finely penciled eyebrows at his urgent question. "A week or so…but is that really important? Wouldn't you rather know how you're alive?"

He sighed wearily, settling his back against the warm, metal walls of the cargo bay. "I am an Augment. That is why. But you may tell me the details if you wish."

Marla's mouth worked, but she kept talking. "Part of your intestine was hanging out. I shoved it back in and stitched you up. Got your blood all over my best working outfit. Scared Joachim out of his wits. Vomited twice as I was stitching you. Don't worry, I aimed well and hit the floor instead of the gaping hole in your belly. You were hit by a monstrous infection that kept you in a coma, and for twelve days I didn't know whether you'd survive or not, didn't know whether I cared or not either. Also kept nosy, less than hospitable Augments from breaking in here. Details complete."

He stared at her for a moment, silent. For once, he did not know quite what to say. He was hardly surprised at waking up alive…what really surprised him was that all this had happened and she had never asked for help from the others. Crippled by sickness, burdened with Joachim, she had done it all alone.

_Why?_ Was it her love for him? Was it really that strong?

Human beings, he knew, were capable of love…but even he had to admit he had never given her a reason to love him. Augments were all passion and desire, admiring physical beauties above spiritual ones. Human 'love' transcended this, loving another more than oneself. Khan had never experienced it. He had never understood it. To him, love should at least be a give and take…give some love, get some love. But even by those standards, his marriage with Marla had begun to falter. He didn't want it to falter…he wanted to keep Marla with him. Sometimes, he even wanted to love her as she expected. But he knew that, above all, he wanted Marla _with_ him.

The clear, high wail of a child broke through his thoughts. The cargo bay door swung open ever so slowly as Joachim, now four years old, pushed through it. A child of only four years should not have been able to use the doors…but he was an Augment boy. The fond smile that usually graced Khan's features when his son appeared, however, was exchanged for a frown.

Joachim's hand was bleeding, and he was rushing to Marla for comfort. But that was not why Khan was frowning.

He frowned because Joachim was crying.

Marla caught her darling instantly, smoothing back his wild blonde hair and cooing at him, already wiping the wound with a fabric she snatched off the bed.

Khan's voice interrupted the scene, cold and harsh. "Do not."

Joachim knew his father's tone and instantly, almost violently, sniffed up the tears. He quickly wiped his face with his bloody sleeve, leaving red streaks across it. Marla's face crumpled up with pity. Khan's didn't change. He gestured with his hand, "Come here."

Joachim came, standing straight before Khan like a little soldier. His eyes were like Marla's; almond shaped, blue and expressive. His lips were well shaped like hers. His skin was not quite as pale as his mother's, but his hair was golden blonde, like Marla's grandmother. He was, in all respects, his mother's child. But Khan didn't care. This was his son, and as such, was entitled to all Khan could give him.

Including discipline.

"Your hand is cut, is it?" He asked softly, his voice low and dangerous like the tiger's, lurking in the shadows behind a man, glowing eyes centered on his unprotected back. Joachim swallowed and nodded, hiding the guilty, shameful hand behind him.

Khan reached for the bed sheets and pulled them away from his stomach once more, exposing the long, red ridge that ran diagonally across his torso. Joachim's eyes widened.

Khan watched his face carefully, judging the strength of the reaction. "Do you see me crying?"

Joachim blinked, his eyes flying to his father's. "No. I sorry, fatha."

Marla stood up, eyes on fire, mouth clenched tightly. "_What_…" she hissed, "do you mean by that?!"

Khan answered without looking away from Joachim; he wished Marla would not choose now of all times to have a discussion about strength and weaknesses. "Joachim must be strong if he is to survive here."

"How is coming to _me_, his _mother_, for _help_, a _**weakness**_?!"

Joachim was startled by his mother's tone…mother never yelled. His little hands grabbed the bed sheets tightly, but he made no other reaction. His father had taught him well.

Khan finally met Marla's gaze. "Crying is a weakness. It is one of the greatest weaknesses there is. By crying, you show a lack of control, a sensitivity of heart that can not bear true suffering."

Marla blinked, her face looking almost stupefied, "Are you talking about compassion? Are you seriously saying compassion is a weakness?! Compassion makes you strong enough to _help_ others."

Khan fought to control his rising temper. "Compassion does not fill bellies, or heal wounds…or ward off the burning sky."

Marla threw up her hands angrily. "It will bring _hope_, and faith!"…she paused a moment, as if uncertain whether she should continue. Her blue eyes bent searchingly upon Khan as she spoke again, "Joachim believed in that."

The response was instantaneous. The black-gloved hand clenched violently onto the metal frame lining the bed. It squeaked in agony as sparks flamed in the brown eyes. "Joachim…" Khan stressed, his syllables trembling from the furious force that pushed them out, "…is_ dead_."

"He died with hope, and faith, and…love. That is our strength." Marla replied, no longer on fire. She looked more like a soldier digging down for a long night in the trenches. Because she knew her words would be like mortar, setting off a storm of destruction she could not attack, only shield from.

"And THIS!" Khan roared, causing Joachim to drop down on all fours and scoot under the bed, "is MINE!" His arm bunched up as, with terrifying strength, he snapped a metal pole off the cot. Catching it in both hands in one violent motion, he snapped it in two and threw it towards Marla's feet. "CAN YOU NOT _UNDERSTAND_ THAT?!"

It clattered against the floor loudly, rattling, barely missing her toes as it bounced on behind her.

Marla flinched, but her body never moved. She stood for one moment, staring at her angry husband, just staring to prove she was not afraid or even impressed. Then, she left. Without slamming the door, without a final word.

Khan lay back in the bed, stiff, hard, angry. He counted his breaths, in, out, in, out, feeling his body cool and relax. Images of Marla's defiant face, echoes of her painful words, kept inflaming his temper. It was ridiculous that she, so weak, so fragile…could make him so _angry_! It took many minutes. But gradually, he calmed down again.

Then, with his heightened senses fueled by adrenaline, he heard the quiet breathing under his bed. Joachim.

In a singular instance, Khan the Conqueror groaned aloud in frustration, hand running over his face and through his black hair, which was getting far too long. Then, quietly, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. "Joachim. Come out."

There was a second of frozen silence. Then a shuffling, scratching sound as the little boy crawled out and once more stood before his father. He showed no fear, except for a certain wariness in his eyes as he glanced around the room; it was a look he seemed to share with his mother. Unafraid, but eternally vigilant. Were they so surrounded by threat, even within the safety of their home?

"Did you know, Joachim, that all men have demons to fight?"

Joachim cocked his head, already curious. "Like da ones in da stories from Indya? Da ones you tell me abowt?"

Khan's mouth curled up slightly on one side in a smile. "From India, you mean. But no, a different kind of demon. A vice. A weakness. I have a weakness."

At this sacrilege, Joachim's eyes widened even farther than Khan had thought possible. "You have a weakness? Dat's impotibal!"

At this corruption of a word the boy had no doubt heard fairly often from his father's lips, Khan grinned. "It is not impossible. Come, up child." He tapped the bed. Without further instruction, Joachim clambered up beside him, carefully avoiding the torso as he curled up beside his father.

Khan was not one for verbal affection. He rarely said anything affectionate to Joachim, but the boy knew that, while tenderness did not come often, when it did come, it came freely. He waited expectantly for his father to say more.

"I have a temper, Joachim. A terrible temper that has ridden upon my shoulders for many, many long years. I have fought it, but never hard enough, and it often bests me. When you lose your temper, it is then that mistakes are made and friendships…" he paused, thinking of Marla, "are broken."

"Which is why," he continued, "Your mother and I argued. It is why I would apologize to you if you were disturbed."

"I wasn't afwaid!" Joachim supplied quickly, pushing himself up on his hands for a minute to meet his father's gaze earnestly.

Khan smiled, his eyes twinkling with a paternal look that, while he rarely wore it, suited him well. "I know. Promise me, Joachim, that you will never surrender to your temper."

"I pwomise, father. I'll be stwong and always loyal to you and Motha."

The last words were unexpected. In a world where everyone, even his own wife, seemed to be turning against him, they touched Khan deeply. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out and gently placed one large hand on his son's tiny head.

Joachim stiffened, but only out of surprise. He quickly relaxed, barely daring to breath lest the moment end. He pushed his face against his father's chest, separated only by thin sheets as he moved with the rise and fall of Khan's breathing.

In this way, they fell asleep together.


	4. Chapter 4

After hopeless trial and error and a few more wasted deaths, Khan abandoned the purifier project. The tangy, almost acidic rain was all they could find to drink, after strenuously pouring and repouring it through the filters. Perhaps someday soon, they would create an engine capable of doing the work, deep down in the cool safety of the caves where sand and wind could not reach it. Even then, however, they would still be forced to waste time and energy collecting and transporting the rainwater down into the caverns.

But really, what choice did they have?

Khan leaned back tiredly against a large rock, watching as the Augments distribute food amongst themselves for their noonday meal. There was little talk. In the mornings and evenings, people were a little livelier…but now, in the grilling hot afternoon, there was a listless exhaustion settling down on everybody like a heavy, thick blanket.

He munched on his own portion; stored food, from space. It still tasted like what it was; protein bars, with just a hint of metal and sand in it. It was, actually, pretty good compared to the indigenous fare they had been painstakingly scraping together.

Animal species had, by this time, completely died out. Wastes and garbage were recycled into more food, but there was also a moss growing on the inside of the caves that might be part of their answer. However, it too was reliant on the dwindling supply of underground pools.

Khan swallowed a sigh along with the final mouthful of protein. Then he mentally winced as the shrill cries of two, angry boys broke the peace and quiet. "Give it to me!"

"Get off!"

"Give it to me NOW!"

"NO!"

Khan threw the trash down on the sand beside him and stood up, stalking towards the disturbance. Sensing the change of mood in his ever-expressive aura, the Augments swerved away from him like ripples of water flowed around a ship.

The two boys, aged nine and ten, were slugging each other and tearing a silver-papered nutrient bar apart between themselves, spilling crumbles of it into the dust. Khan bent down and grabbed them both by the collar, yanking them up as if they weighed no more than kittens.

Both boys went absolutely limp, suspended, staring with nothing short of terror at Khan Noonien Singh, the leader they had always feared and obeyed, never even spoken to…far less been _this_ close while being chastised. Khan set them down roughly on their feet, his brown eyes bright with righteous anger. "If we fight, we will _all_ die!"

"We are all going to die anyway."

Khan stiffened at the small, thin voice. He wheeled around in time to see Teresa shushing her little girl. He stalked towards them both, ignoring Teresa's protective stance. He knew she'd protest, maybe even challenge him if he tried to touch the child, but it didn't matter. He didn't intend to hurt her. To engage in petty squabbles was a crime to be punished. To be without hope, especially in one so young, was a wound to be healed.

The little girl's thick black hair was tied tightly back, exposing her grey eyes that glinted at him without fear. She was not intimidated. He smiled, admiring the courage that had been lacking in the two miscreants behind him. He crouched down on eye level with her, speaking as if she was a fellow adult he was informing, not a child he was comforting. "We will survive, young one. Never doubt it."

He cupped her chin in his hand, willing her to believe it so the others could believe it…so he could believe it.

"We _will_ survive."

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Finally, there came a day when Marla just could not stand it anymore. She was tired of beating her fists against a rock wall, tired of trying to make Khan see her as more than just his wife, see her as the person she was. She was tired of trying to explain true love to him. But most of all, she was tired of waiting, constantly getting her hopes crushed as he turned his handsome, striking face away from her, hiding the heart she wasn't even sure existed. She was tired of trying to find that heart. She was tired of it all.

And when Khan cut the rations again, including babies and children, then had the gall to accuse _her_ of weakness because she protested…she broke. She screamed at him, she ran away, ran into the dessert without a clue where she was going. She just wanted to get away from the dust, the sand, the heat, the hell…but most of all, from _him_.

_If I just keep running…__**blood ringing in my ears**__…just over the horizon…__**breath whistling down my dry throat…**__maybe I'll see green grass. Maybe I'll see my home in Wisconsin…__**burning lungs**__…maybe I'll see my mother and father…the only people who ever loved me. _

_Maybe I'll find home…__**but Joachim**__…but home…__**Khan**__…_

Curse it all. She was too weak to leave them, too weak to run any farther. She sunk into the burning sands, sobbing, heaving, hands scraping as she gathered up handfuls of it, as if she would dig herself a tunnel out of all this misery. But she couldn't. She had chosen to serve in hell by the side of its master. And now she had her son to think of. The very thing she had thought would bind Khan closer to her…instead, it had chained her to _him_, forever to this dead planet, forever to this pale imitation of life.

She breathed in sand and began coughing violently, rolling onto her back and holding her chest as pain tightened in her neck, and blasting white sunlight pierced through her closed eyelids.

Suddenly, her face was shaded. Large hands lifted her out of the dust and worked her shoulders, making it easier to breathe and cough. "Marla! By all the gods…Marla!"

She stiffened and suddenly threw herself out of his grasp. On all fours, she coughed out the rest of the sand. Then she rolled over and sat down, facing him. She saw the confusion on his face, the worry…but she also saw the irritation. She knew his thoughts perfectly, as if he had spoken them aloud. _What is my silly little wife doing now? She is so much trouble, so irritating! A fragile burden…pretty enough, but why do I keep her?_

Why, indeed? "This can not go on, Marla." He said quietly, his face stern.

She fought down the urge to laugh; she must not lose control now. She was quite probably going mad. "Just remember, _Khan_," she spat the name, "_you_ didn't force me to follow you down here. I came because I wanted to.

Khan raised his eyebrows, not entirely sure where this was coming from, nor entirely eager to know where it was leading. "You would have faced a court-martial."

"After risking my life to return to the other side and eradicate you and your _pirates_!? I don't think so! Discharge, I think, would be the worst. You," her eyes widened with sudden realization, than narrowed with just as sudden anger, "you _dare_ suggest I came with you out of cowardice! That I wanted to live here and be hungry and bruised by animals and beaten down by the elements?! You think I want to look like this?!" She gestured at her face, still beautiful and finely featured, but completely bereft of makeup, tanned by the sun, with a texture like soft leather; scars from sharp bits of sand crisscrossed her face and neck, and her cheeks were slightly gaunt.

Her blue eyes were wet with tears of disappointed rage.

Khan stared at her, seeing the entire problem from an angle he had never fully considered before; hers. She had married him, true. She had come with him, giving herself freely. She could have, she _should_ have been a princess! Instead she was doomed to this…all this…that no one, not even an Augment, should have to suffer. Why had she done all this? She was obviously unhappy with him…why, although the thought made him sick with fear…did she even stay? "Why…why did you come then, Marla?"

He said her name. She screamed back, eyes flowing with tears, hands clenched in her rags, leaning towards him with so much fire that he felt, should they touch, he would be burned. "I came…because I _loved_ you!"

The love that passed beyond beauty, beyond fear and shame. The love that was endless and complete, giving all and asking nothing in return…Marla's love. This was what she gave him. This was what he could not understand. This love gave her strength.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Marla cut him off, speaking rapidly, "I still love you! I've sentenced myself to eternal exile among an alien people in a ruined wasteland because I _love_ you, Khan Noonien Singh! You arrogant, stupid, _stupid_ man! All you can think about is conquest, revenge, survival…did you ever love me?! Did you ever see beyond my doglike longing for you?! I was a fool, but at least I was honest! You _used_ me…you _used_ me…I knew it, and I still came! And this, this is my reward! A dead existence with the man I love, who sees through me like air! Like thin _air_!" Then, before Khan knew it, she had slapped him squarely across the face.

He was shocked. His pride roared at the offence, even as his mind reeled from the knowledge. Not knowing which to obey, he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her to her feet, standing close to her, staring at her like some wild, rare creature he had caught.

Even as she struggled against his iron grip, her hand rose again, aiming for his face. He caught her by the wrist. It was too hard, and he could see it through the pain in her suddenly drawn face. Ever so slightly, he relaxed his hold. He was uncertain what to say, what to do, and that irritated him. He was out of control against this whirlwind…he could break her, but he would never defeat her through sheer force. He _would_ not force her.

He couldn't.

He formed his words with difficulty, trying to calm her down. "It would be better if you allowed me to respond….before you began hitting me."

Her adrenalin draining once more, Marla was shaking. And rightly so; she had seen him kill at least three rebel Augments with his bare hands. But she wouldn't back down. She looked up again, narrowing her eyes at him with the beginnings of what Khan realized…was hatred.

Hatred. Hatred in the eyes of Marla, his Marla.

Khan's face creased with the concern; with the denial, the loss he was feeling. Mutely, he shook his head, one hand flying to the side of her face in a thoughtless attempt to show her love, to beg her not to hate him…Marla jerked her face away, curtaining it with red hair. Khan swallowed. He let go of her hands and grabbed her face, opening his mouth to speak…

Marla screamed in his face, startling him. Her eyes now terrified, she wrapped her arms around him, slamming her body into his. Hands grabbing wildly as he went down, Khan's body thudded into an undignified heap on the sand with Marla on top of him. His head bounced off an out jutting rock. He was out cold.

A spear hit the ground with a muffled _womp, _cold steel easily biting through the dust. Marla struggled up, yanking her hands out from under Khan's limp, heavy body. She ran forward instinctively, pouncing at the spear, ripping it out, turning…

And saw Marie, the dark haired, blue eyed Augment, rushing towards her. Her face was like a tigress', grim with the unchangeable intention to kill. There was death in her eyes, like hostile electricity, like a knife already plunging into Marla's heart.

She took a step back, startled and afraid, the spear loose in her hands. But then she saw that Marie was no longer looking at her; she was looking at Khan, helplessly stretched out on the sand with his dark face turned up to the sky, eyes closed, black hair tangled around his head. Marie was swooping in like a falcon for the kill, already pulling a sharp knife out of her belt.

Marla rushed forward clumsily, nearly tripping over Khan as she leapt over him and, swinging the spear like a baseball club, caught Marie a blow on the head with a resounding crack.

Marie stumbled back, hand to her head. Her blue eyes refocused on Marla as the pain faded. Her beautiful lips curled in a snarl, "back away, McGivers…this has nothing to do with you! Let me finish what I have begun, and you will be free."

"I can't let you do that," Marla replied, trying to look competent as she dug her feet into the ground, far apart from each other. She kept glancing at the other woman's muscles, straining her eyes for the slightest movements that could indicate her next attack.

Marie laughed. It was completely sincere, bubbling out of her throat and echoing in clear peals of amusement. "You! You cannot let me…ha! You can barely hold that spear straight. I have been fighting since I was a small girl…when was the last time you won a victory?!"

"I punched out a bully in Tener's High," Marla growled back, "When was the last time you murdered someone while they were unconscious? What a great victory! Truly, your bravery astonishes me!"

Marie's face darkened, the laughter out like a drenched flame. "This is not murder. This is culling. Diego shall be the next ruler of the Augments…maybe _I_ will, if he does not do as I say. Unlike my husband, Khan was a man I could respect; yet he rejected me. I would have served him quite willingly, but he preferred your whining weaknesses. I will, therefore, take the leadership for my_self_."

Marla spoke through clenched teeth, but her eyes were wide as she glanced at Khan, wishing he would wake up. "You're not going to kill him!"

Marie lunged forward the minute her eyes were averted. Knowing she had to keep her away from Khan, Marla charged to meet her, shattering the air with a ridiculously high scream of more terror than rage. She pointed her spear at Marie's belly and lunged.

Marie easily dodged it. Swift, strong hands snatched the spear handle and butted it into Marla's head. A knee hit her in the stomach, winding her, and one more kick to the legs laid her out on the ground.

Marie was on her instantly, slapping her hands aside as she straddled her, bringing the knife up. "This, this was not my purpose…" she gazed at Marla's red hair and blue eyes, the eyes that had won Khan Noonien Singh. A demonic grin of pure jealousy and hatred lit up her features, "but this, I will _enjoy_!"

She plunged the knife down. Marla screamed with pain, nearly biting off her tongue as skin, muscle, and flesh separated, and the metal shard pierced into her softest innards. Warm blood soaked her clothes, moistening her dry fingers as she clutched convulsively at the handle, almost pushing it farther in as she threw her head back with a violent moan.

Hand still loose on the pommel, Marie leaned her face into Marla's, her breath unbearably hot and suffocating. "He never really wanted you, you know…he told me so himself. Honor is all that is keeps him bound to you. How could _you_ want him? Why are you _dying_ for him?!"

Marla didn't answer for a minute; weakly, feebly, she pulled one leg up. Then, with a sudden burst of strength that seemed to tear her wound even farther open, she heaved upwards, unseating Marie, who saved herself from a fall by leaping to her feet and stumbling away.

Marla sat up, still holding onto the knife. With a low, gurgling cry of pain, she yanked it out. Fresh blood streamed out in rapid gushes. She glared at Marie, her blue eyes burning with pain and desperation. Then, so quickly that her arm was only a blur, she threw the knife…

Straight into Marie's chest.

Marie stiffened. Without a sound except for a sort of horrified, airless gasp, she stared down at the pommel that had sprouted from her body. Then, she slowly sunk to her knees, hands working in the sand as she looked up again to gaze at Marla in wonder, unable to understand how this…this _female_…this mere _human_…had killed her, Marie, who had once been one of the ten great rulers of the world.

Marla struggled to her knees, on all fours, separated from Marie by only a four-foot stretch of sand. Blue eyes dull with pain met blue eyes dull with death, blinking like a confused infant who is seeing the light for the first time. Marie's body shuddered. Her lips motioned the silent question, _why?_

Marla wanted to say she didn't know. But she did. Even if the reason disgusted her, she knew why she would die for Khan. For that reason none of the Augments seemed to understand. "Because I love him."

So suddenly that Marla wasn't even sure she'd heard her, Marie tumbled face first into the dust. Slowly, a red pool spread out underneath her, soaking into the sand, clumping it together until it looked like ground up cherries.

Marla dragged herself over to Khan's still form, one hand pushing hard on the slit in her side, willing the blood to stay inside, to keep warmth and life in her limbs. She sat by his side, pausing, arching her back to draw in deep, painful breaths. After a minute, she wiped the sticky red liquid off her right hand, leaving maroon streaks on her clothes.

Then, she touched Khan's forehead, feeling the smooth, bronzed skin, running her fingers over the finely drawn black eyebrows, the eyes with their thick lashes, so thick that they almost made his eyes appear blue in certain lights. It was a beautiful yet strange effect, and she much preferred it when his eyes were wide open, bright and burning with golden-brown fire. The fire she had fallen in love with.

Her fingers, light and graceful, drew their lines down his chin, cupping it, giving it a little push, hoping to wake him up.

There was no movement. Marla was getting so tired. She blinked, dropping her hand in the dust and staring at it as if it was some dead scorpion she had discovered. So tired…blackness roaring at the edge of her vision, calling for her to just fall into it and sleep. The pain in her guts, she was sure, would simply fade away if she only listened.

Was this the end then, finally? Dying for Khan's sake, by Khan's side, in the desert? Was this finally her release? Was it…was it all over…?

"Marla." The croak interrupted her thoughts. She turned her head slightly, grateful for the growing shadows as she saw Khan's bright eyes of dusky fire staring at her in perplexity. "Did you…did you hit me?"

"No. The rock did." She really didn't have the breath to waste words with him.

"You…you didn't let me finish."

"Finish what? Marie's dead." Marla felt like this day would be her last; she wasn't very afraid anymore of what her words might bring.

"What?!" Khan sat up like an arrow, then instantly regretted it as his head screamed in pain. He grabbed at it, wincing against sunlight that seemed far too bright. Squinting, he saw Marie's body, face first in the sand, caked in blood. Not too far away was a spear, half buried. He turned, startled, to look at Marla, at the flush in her face, the wild dilation of her eyes. "Did you…did she…?!"

Marla rolled her eyes at his confusion. "Yes. She did. And just because I saved you doesn't mean I love you."

Khan was now not only confused, but panicked. He straightened and grabbed her arm. "Stop! Don't say that! What do you mean, saved me?! _Why_?!"

She reached forward, sealing his mouth shut with her dirty, wet hand. He flinched back in disgust, but she spoke right over him. "Shut up! Just shut up. Words, that's all that ever comes out of your mouth. Words all about yourself, words that hurt, words that wound. You never showed me any love at all, Khan. You love Joachim more than you love me. This is so freaking big…" she suddenly punched him in the chest, "what good is it if it's empty?!"

Things were happening too fast. Too strangely. The rug was being pulled out from under his feet. Marla was too angry to listen anymore, too furious to obey. He was going to lose her unless he spoke well, and now. She had saved him from Marie…yet she claimed she no longer loved him. What did she mean?! She was so strange, so confusing…"Marla, listen…"

"Too late, your Excellency," Marla laughed shortly, her hand suddenly grabbing at his, "I lied. I love you, but you never loved me back. Now, I'm dead. I'm dead and, heaven help me! I still love you." She pulled him into a sudden, ferocious kiss.

Khan closed his eyes, accepting this sudden show of love, welcoming it with an almost crippling feeling of relief. Because she still loved him. Marla rarely began their kisses. The alien she was hiding inside had been destroyed once more. Everything would be fine…_wait, what does she mean, she is dead?_

Instinctively, even as his mind questioned this, his hands crawled to her waist. As his fingers pressed against fabric, he felt the blood. With a startled cry he drew back, breaking the connection, staring at his hand as it glistened in the setting sun.

Marla sagged against him suddenly; hand on her side, a strange, otherworldly smile on her face. "Too late, far too late. If I'd known I was going to die…wouldn't have been so angry…Khan…forgive you…cause I love you…but you were such a pain…"

With a small, whispering sigh, her red hair stopped blowing back and forth in the weakening breath from her mouth. Her hand, clenched so tightly in the ragged, crimson material of his clothes, went limp and fell with a small thump into the dust. Then, staring beyond him at the burnt clouds in the dim sky, her eyes closed.

"No."

The word trembled out into the desert, bouncing against the rocks as night fell quickly, shadows lengthening.

"No."

It was repeated, shimmering out over the star studded horizon.

Khan pressed his hand to the wound, feeling panic rise as the blood kept pumping from between his fingers. No. She must not go. _Not like this_…_oh gods_…"Marla!"

She must come back. She _had_ to come back. He was master of men, ruler of worlds…surely, he could will his wife to come back. He had to speak to her again, touch her…apologize…

He had to apologize. He had to thank her for all she had given him; love, family, life…he had to tell her he understood what she had tried for so long to tell him. He had to give her the love she deserved. New love, strange love….but he should have realized. He should have loved her.

He _did_ love her.

One hand crawled through her hair, red hair, pulling it away from her face…a beautiful face, beautiful because he knew it better than his own, had seen it everyday…argued with it, smiled at it, kissed it…loved the soul that sang behind it. She was Marla, _his_ Marla.

And now he realized, once she was lying almost dead in his arms, that in his world of pain and despair and suffering…she had become the very center of his universe.

Compassion makes you strong enough to help others.

He pulled her into his arms and stood, feeling how strangely light, almost ethereal, she felt. "Stay with me," he whispered in her ear, still pressing hard to the wound, as if he held her life in his hands.

_It will bring hope._

He began moving, began running across the desert sand, able to stay upright even with her added weight because of the superior strength that raged in his body, fueled to even greater heights by his determination. He would get her back in time. He could not lose her. He would not lose her. He would do it because he _had_ to.

_And it will bring faith._

He would do it because he loved her.

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"Just because you saved me doesn't mean you love me."

She was cold. So cold. How could she be alive, safe and sound in their cargo bay…and still be this cold? Marla sat in the bed, hands clasped, head averted as she stared serenely out the door. Her clothes were lumpy around her stomach where, Khan knew, thick bandages were wrapped tightly around the gaping wound, keeping damaged, torn tissues together, sealing blood inside.

He felt bullied by this freezing tone…he was Khan Noonien Singh; he would not be _bullied_, even if she _had_ been to the grave and back. With a growl of discontent, he stood up from his chair, slamming it against the wall as he crossed his arms and stared down at her.

She didn't flinch; he hadn't expected her to. "Of course I love you! Why would I save you if it was not so?!"

"Oh, I don't know…didn't want to lose your little toy…your _trophy_!" Marla mocked him.

_Keep a hold on your anger…do not let the demons win_… "You talk foolishly!" He snapped, feeling the bones pop in his knuckles as his hands clenched into fists.

"If I was crying, Khan…what would you do?"

Khan narrowed his eyes at her, seeing a surprise attack for what it was, "I would ask you what the matter was."

"What if nothing was the matter? What if I just felt sad?"

"You cannot _just_ feel sad!" Khan growled, determined to keep his voice below a roar, "There is always a reason!"

"What if the reason hurts too much to say? What if I was crying for no reason that you could ever know…what would you do then?" Her blue eyes stared up at him with righteous rage, already knowing his answer before he spoke it.

"I would…" he couldn't believe the hesitation in his own voice, "I would try to discover the reason."

Marla closed her eyes as if a sudden pain had flared up in her head. She dropped her face, the fire gone again, just leaving her tired. "Couldn't you…" she whispered, so quietly that he barely heard her, "couldn't you just hug me? Couldn't you just tell me you were there, that you didn't care what was the matter…you only cared that I was crying?"

Khan stared at her. Slow, stupid realization was squeezing through his brain, ideas completely alien to him but simply seemed to make _sense_, to feel _right_. Ideas that he could not voice…but they only echoed the sentiments he had always felt for her…sentiments he used to consider superfluous and unimportant. Yet now, he realized it was, perhaps, the kind of love Marla spoke of. When he answered her, it was in almost as soft a whisper as hers. "I would care."

She smiled, but it was artificial, too tired of fighting to even recognize victory when she saw it, "would you?" Her tone made it clear; she didn't believe him.

He came forward almost impulsively, not wanting to understand the reason for the broken sadness…the _despair_ stamped on her beautiful face…because to understand might be to acknowledge that he was the cause of it.

He sat beside her on the bed, careful to avoid jostling her wounded body. Then, he reached for her face, wanting to guide it toward his, to _show_ her his love.

She jerked away violently. "Don't!" her voice was thick with tears. "You can't just kiss this problem away, Khan. You can't just give me gratification and passion…I need _real_ love…and I'm not sure you can give it to me."

He dropped his hand, wishing she would look up so he could meet her gaze. "You think I do not know true love? You are right. I am an Augment, but I am also a fierce animal, a beast…a creature of pure passion and power. And someday, someday I will be dirt, and dust, a ghost wailing over the sands of this cursed world, a world I will never leave."

She met his gaze now, blue eyes under long lashes, interested in what he was saying, yet still ready to fight him tooth and nail to preserve her belief in a better way of life, still ready to fight to the bitter end to preserve her sense of self, to save her tender soul from the claws of Khan's bestial nature.

"I never…loved, not in the way you see it." He clenched his hands, trying to strengthen himself against the terrifying wave of emotion that was rising inside him, something he had always before scorned as weakness…it hurt to surrender to it, it hurt his pride. And yet it also felt _good_ to suffer, to suffer as she must have suffered. "Until yesterday."

Now she glanced at him, startled, distrustful. He hurried on before she dismissed his words completely, "I do love you, Marla…I felt you on the Botany Bay, even before I was awake. And I…part of me…wanted to awaken only that I might see you, touch you, and take you for my own."

"And yesterday, when you collapsed into my arms and I felt your wound…when I realized…" the bloody memory flashed before his vision, and he convulsively reached out and touched her leg, just to make certain that she was truly here, that she wasn't lying dead in the desert, slowly sinking into the sand.

She did not pull away, but he didn't notice. "When I realized that I could, indeed, lose you…I realized that I do, really, love you. Even before I…" He had hurt her…he had broken her hand, dominated her through pain and the power of his words, the intoxication of his eyes. Guilt, disgust at what he had done, the crime…no, _sin_…he had so unthinkingly committed against her…burned in his stomach. But it was a good kind of burn, because it allowed him to hope, to hope that he could be the sort of person Marla would love, "Before I…used you, I loved you. And I will do so forever."

He loved her. Not because of her red hair, her blue eyes, or her sweet lips. He loved her fiery spirit, her unshakeable devotion, her acidic wit…he loved her for yelling at him, for bearing his son, for making his food, mending his clothes, for living with him every day…he loved her for forgiving him, for trying to teach him, for relying on him and trusting him and for not leaving him despite all the million and ten ways in which he had hurt her. He loved her because her name was Marla. He loved her because she was the greatest thing in his world, the only woman who would die for him…the only woman he would gladly _die_ for.

"Forever, Marla," he coaxed breathlessly, leaning forward, staring into her eyes with a pleading look. "This new love of yours…you deserve no less from my hands. I wish to learn it. Will you…" pride roiled in his stomach, but he violently swallowed it back, "will you show me?"

Marla's blue eyes widened, when she spoke, her voice sounded airy, unused, unable to believe what was happening, "you…Khan, you….you're serious?"

"Always." He answered, "I want to love you perfectly, because you…you are perfect."

"Oh my dear God…" This exclamation to the heavens spun out into the air as Marla, seeking both spiritual and physical reassurance reached for his strong shoulders and pulled them towards her until she could hide her face in them. Startled, Khan stayed perfectly still, feeling her body heave with what he thought was a silent sob

But when she raised her head again, he could see she had been laughing. Her eyes were wet. "I'm too tired and too stupid to teach you right now, but this…" she touched his face, her small fingers exerting a slight command that he expertly obeyed, large hands gently bracing her waist, supporting her as she leaned forward, "…this is part of it." She ran one hand through his black hair, her face less than an inch from his as she breathed, "think of this as a promise…a promise forever."

Together, for once in perfect synchrony and consent, perfect agreement and peace of heart, perfect _love_…they kissed with a freedom, an invigorating joy that Khan had never felt before.


	5. Chapter 5

The cargo bay door slammed open. Khan stormed inside, sand robes flying, one hand clenched painfully onto Marla's upper arm. He pulled her after him, barely restraining himself from throwing her as he let go sharply and turned to shove the door closed.

When he faced Marla again, he seemed to tower over her as he stalked forward. Her body swayed backwards almost instinctively, as a mouse might flinch from an approaching storm. He stopped and looked down on her, his breath hot on her face. "What did you think you were _doing_ out there?!" he hissed.

"What was I…?! What about _you_?! That man was ready to collapse!" Marla retorted, trying not to get any angrier than she already was. "He was going to drop down dead in the dirt, and you ordered him to keep working!"

His eyes narrowed at her as he answered disparagingly, "You should have exercised more _perception_. I did not order him; I allowed him to."

"Allowed him?" Marla cried, "_Allowed_ him?!" Exasperated, she paced away from Khan, marching towards the wall.

His brown eyes followed her as intently as a peregrine falcon's. "Yes. He is an Augment, Marla." Addressing her by name often was an exercise he had imposed upon himself. At first, it was simply humiliating. Now, it was both humiliating and…strengthening, as if he was training his limited patience to perfection. "If I had not allowed him to continue, he would have done so anyway."

"Oh," Marla crossed her arms and whirled around, dropping hard against the wall with a low thump until she was leaning against it, booted feet crossed and somehow adding an allure to her stance. "So, Augments kill themselves, and people just let them do it?"

"He will not die. Ishad is far too intelligent for that. He has friends as well, friends who can persuade him to stop where I would have more difficulty in doing so."

Marla's frowned, trying to understand what sounded unnecessarily complicated. "You knew he wouldn't listen to you…so you let him go out there because you think his friends can stop him?"

"And you," he completely ignored her, pointing a gloved finger in her direction, his other fist planted on his hip in that familiarly arrogant, dictatorial attitude, "you question me in front of the others, whining and snapping like some disgruntled pigeon! Like some _pet_ I have given too much liberty!"

Marla's blue eyes flashed. Her tone was as cold as ice when she responded, "but I'm not your pet."

"No," his voice was strange, his brown eyes burning as he looked at her suddenly; it made her guts clench uneasily. "Of course not."

Before she even knew what was happening, his hands had crashed into the wall at either side of her head, trapping her there. His face loomed towards hers, already turning slightly, ready for the sign of affection that had only just become meaningful for her again.

"No, Khan!" she whispered harshly, forcing down feeling of claustrophobic terror as she turned her face away sharply, her mouth brushing the bare skin of his brown arm. At this rejection, he froze. She felt the muscles in his arm bunch, the pure rage that was the beast within him bucking in outrage. She grit her teeth, daring to make it clear, "I don't want it."

_We had a deal. A promise. I don't want it. Not now. Not like this._

Khan's brown eyes became fixed as he stared at her ear, his mind far away. It had been stupid to charge her like this, stupid and impulsive. He saw it very clearly now; his brutal side was tired of following rules _she_ had constructed. His brutal side was seeking to reassert his authority over Marla by coercing her into a kiss.

And now his pride, an even greater monster than his temper, wouldn't let him back off. Yet his conscience, his honor…his _heart_…wouldn't let him continue. He stared without seeing, fighting through a mental battle that not only puzzled but infuriated him, because it was all centered around the powerless, frail wisp of a woman that was trapped in his arms like a flower pressed between cinder blocks.

A vein in Marla's neck trembled. She blinked hard, summoning something…perhaps courage to resist him. He suddenly felt slightly ashamed of his actions. Her hands clenched into fists, but then she opened her blue eyes and turned her head, red hair pulling at the rivets in the wall. She returned his intense stare squarely. "Khan," she said softly, "you _promised_. I don't want to fight _you_…I want to fight this problem, together."

Problem?…ah, yes! Ishad. Orders. Leadership. He straightened, his hands dropping limply to his sides. He felt strangely empty…almost burnt out, as if by denying his primitive desire for dominance and self-gratification, he had lost something. He wondered if there was anything in 'true love' that could replace it.

"It does not, in the end, matter whether I am right or wrong. I am Khan Noonien Singh, the sworn leader of the Augments of Ceti Alpha VI. My wife, no matter how beautiful, no matter how _equal_…" he sneered the last word a little; after all, she had been going on and on about that earlier, "she must not question me in front of them. You tried to tear down their respect for me, Marla."

"That's not what I meant to do," Marla defended herself, counting by twos to make sure her rapid, shallow breathing slowed down as she grew calmer.

He did that superior smile, that small pull of the lip that both infuriated and amused her. She fondly called it his princely smirk. The sheik's thick lashes hooded his brown eyes, casting an almost hypnotic indigo shade over them. "I know. I would have been far, far angrier otherwise."

"But I can't just let you do the wrong thing and say nothing!" She said, looking at him with more urgency then anger, trying futilely to ignore the charismatic, attractive aura he was suddenly filling the air with, "You have to let me talk with you about these things! Help me understand or let me try and help you!"

The smile dropped off his face; he turned pensive. "I will be honest. I do not believe you can teach me about leadership. This is not something I need learn from _you_, of all people. It is unnecessary."

"It's part of true love," Marla replied quietly.

Irritation and anger flashed in his eyes. Then, an even stranger look took over. Weariness. He dropped his head, nearly brushing her nose with his scalp. "This is too much, too fast." He looked up again, and the beginnings of true rebellion glimmered darkly in his face. "This is not worth it."

Marla reached forward and spread her hand over his warm cheek. He looked surprised by the gesture, but only gazed at her questioningly. She wanted so badly to reassure him, to teach him. She saw that he wasn't trying to please himself now. He really, truly did not understand. She smiled brightly, warmly at him, her voice almost a whisper, "it is, Khan…in the end, it really is. Believe me."

He smiled, something in him turned on by her changed attitude; something in his heart lightened by her words. He brushed his thumb along her lip. "It had better be worth it, my wife."

Marla made a face, "well, that depends." With a quick, hard twist, she slipped out of his grasp and rushed back a few steps, "you probably won't like what I have to say."

He turned quickly, grinning now. His brown eyes sparkled playfully, "that will _hardly_ prevent you from saying it." He leapt for her, intending to grab her and show his suddenly reblossoming love to the fullest. Marla squealed and dove towards the door, laughing hysterically as she managed to get it open just before he snatched her sand-coat.

Too excited to care, she yanked out of it and sped outside. Khan almost laughed himself as he threw the coat away heedlessly and gave chase.

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The tiny storage compartment was wrapped in a thick, murmuring blanket of wind lifted sand that once in a while seemed to tear itself on the outside edge of the cargo bay and rip into a wailing scream of sound.

Marla had been through so many sandstorms that the sudden noises didn't bother her anymore, nor the oppressive atmosphere of the same room of oxygen gradually getting thinner and thinner, or the dim light that made her eyes hurt as she moved about in the black shadows, feeling for things as she cleaned up after dinner. The only light came from a battered emergency lantern, a rectangular grate of metal with a heart of glowing orange, almost like a fire except that it didn't flicker.

Khan was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a book lying limp in his hands. It would be hard for anyone to read in that light, even for an Augment. Marla could see by the way he was staring fixedly at the light that he was trying to be listless without showing it. She wondered what thoughts ran through his head at times like these, when the planet itself seemed to conspire against Khan, to trap him, hold him down so he couldn't work anymore…so he'd have to _think_.

Marla knew how terrifying thought could be. When her tasks were over, she was tortured by worry, regret, false hopes…she wondered if any of the other Augments suffered the same. She couldn't remember seeing one who wasn't busy, either with work or family. She never saw one sitting, alone somewhere. The few that actually had just disappeared, wandered off to die in the desert. She believed they had gone mad.

And no, she didn't want Khan to go mad. A strong mind might hold out longer than others did against the inexorable tug of surrender and insanity, but it only meant the eventual collapse would be all the harder.

Marla dusted her hands off and carefully hung the rag on a hook. Then she came forward towards the fire and gently, slowly knelt behind Khan.

Her fingers touched his strong, thick shoulders, smoothing over the curves, pushing steadily, soothingly.

Startled, Khan stiffened and half turned around. It was an interesting feeling as everything she was touching suddenly turned rock hard, pushing her hands up as the muscles contracted. She smiled reassuringly at him as he gave her a dark, questioning glance from the corner of his eye.

After a second's hesitation, he gave her the smallest of smiles back.

Then he turned to the light again, his eyes traveling gradually downward to look at Joachim, who was curled up next to the heat-source like some puppy. The boy was exhausted from an earlier bout of rough play with Khan…Marla knew it had taken place because she heard the squealing and the hollow _bang _sounds as bone joints hit the metal floor of the cargo bay.

She tried often now to give Khan and Joachim more time alone together, because it was only when he was alone with his little son that Khan seemed to believe he could actually be a real human being without somehow destroying himself.

Marla sighed at the thought, but her arms kept moving back and forth as she massaged her husband's shoulders. Khan was obviously enjoying it, but he was strangely silent. A small smile snaked its way up her mouth as she realized why; he didn't know how to thank her…or if he even _should_.

It was ridiculous. Since that…episode…in the desert, Khan was always either threatening to snap her spine in two or treading on eggshells around her.

Well, she knew how to bring life back into the air around them. She raised her left hand and slowly ran her fingers down through his long black hair. And quickly met a rat's nest.

Khan gave a hiss at the sudden change from a pleasant massage to a sharp tug at his scalp. "Marla!" he scolded, a little louder than he needed to.

"Oh, shut up!" Marla snapped back playfully, not letting him finish, "it's your fault anyway. Your hair is almost longer than mine, and you don't take care of it at all! It's like a ratty old woman's hair!"

"It is not!" Khan must not have realized how childish he sounded. He didn't turn around only because Marla's fingers were still entangled in his hair. "Both men _and_ women have shared this style since creation! It is only more common for men to cut it because they have far more important things on their minds than being beautiful."

"Good. Because you're not." Marla felt a patch of rough, bumpy scar tissue on his scalp. Her fingers delicately brushed over it, relieved to not find any heat there that would signify an infection. "In fact, you're quite hideous."

"_That_ does it!" Khan's long arm snaked around her waist, surprising her. Marla shrieked aloud as he pulled her around him in one swift motion until she was lying in his lap, the book awkwardly poking into her shoulders.

Khan leaned over her, his dark eyes reflecting the fire as he smiled devilishly at her. Marla laughed, and then received his kiss.

There was no force here, no stolen sign of affection. Khan had learned that a kiss was a gift from both parties, melded together to create a single act of love. It had been hard and strange for him…especially as time went on and a new spark began to fire up their relationship. Marla grew brighter, happier, almost coquettish at times…and so very, very captivating. But as he got used to it, he realized this apparent restraint of affection only strengthened their union, binding them closer together then they had ever been before. And it brought him joy.

When they separated, Marla rolled off him and sat up a little bit to the side, facing him but not cutting off the light. Khan was about to toss the book to the side and finish what he'd started, but she pointed to it. "What are you reading?"

"Oh," he reluctantly glanced at the thing, so small and insignificant in the dark, "Moby Dick. A nautical tale by the Earth author, Herman Melville."

"Hmm. I read the shortened version of that…it was a requirement in high school, but I couldn't stomach the entire book so I winged it." She could tell Khan didn't know what 'winged' meant, but he was too prideful to ask. So she wouldn't tell him. "Ahab scared the heck out of me…he's so deranged and completely obsessed with killing…"

Khan interrupted her, his voice carrying that self-assured smugness, that princely air that she had learned to hate. He sounded like he was teaching someone who was very stupid. "With good reason, my dove. The white whale took his leg, leaving him half a man. He was maimed for life. No woman could look at him…he could not look at himself. What more fitting way for him to end his life than in destroying the enemy that crippled him?"

Marla's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "You did NOT just sanction Captain Ahab."

Raising one eyebrow, a completely serious Khan gave her a look that plainly said; _yes I did _and_ are you alright?_

Marla wanted to laugh until she cried. After all this time, Khan could still stupefy, sadden, and surprise her with his off the wall, twisted view of life.

It was then that she resolved to share far more things with him then pleasure. They began to read his books together and discuss them. Well, more like argue for days over each and every chapter. He found her ideas radically different, somewhat inferior, and irritatingly stubborn...but they intrigued him. She knew on which subjects he would gradually surrender to her and on which he simply would not budge. She knew when to stop pushing a point on which he was not yet ready to surrender, and how to graciously accept it when he did. And in return, he gave her a greater favor than he had ever given anyone, even his old friend, Joachim.

He listened to her.

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Marla felt like she was choking on the burning sand. Every breath seemed like she was swallowing it into her lungs. Khan's hand was holding onto her wrist so tightly that it hurt as he ran with her, dragging her along the bottom of the canyon as the sides of it seemed to turn into dust water that was flowing down the high cliffs on either side, rapidly flooding the ground, threatening to drown them. Except they could walk on this water…a little.

Ironically, the clouds of dust kicked up by the massive movement of miles of sand actually shaded them from the bronze sun in the red metal sky. Khan pulled her with the silent, tight movement of a warrior, completely in control, ready to fight the world with his massive strength. She felt safe.

And a little unsteady, she reflected. Khan was doing all the running. He was going so fast that all she could do was leap on high and hope her feet hit the ground straight so she could leap again, like a sand skier behind a motorboat, with utterly no balance and no breath. Luckily, even Khan could not speed his way through the ever-shifting dust. Their progress was irregular, halted, interspersed with bursts of speed as they found a patch of relatively stable ground.

Khan veered sharply to the side, trudging up the building piles of sand, legs hitting the ground only to sink under the surface until he was buried up to his knees. Marla lost what little momentum she had already had, and fell face first.

Without a word, Khan turned, picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Then, with a queer struggling motion as the sand rose even higher, forcing him to crawl on all fours, he reached the stable wall of rock that lined either side of the canyon.

He slung her off, grabbing at her shoulders to steady her. "Climb!"

Right. Climb. Marla stubbornly ignored the fact that she had never climbed a tree in her life, let alone a sharply vertical cliff about a hundred feet high. She swallowed down the bile that had risen quickly to her gasping throat and reached forward to grab the rocks.

At the exact same instant, Khan seized her around the waist and boosted her up. In mute panic that he was going to drop her, her hands shot out and attached themselves to the rock with the strength of a giant squid's suckers. Her booted feet dislodged crumbling stone as they created their own footholds by kicking into the natural shelves lining the surface.

She wasn't quite sure how, but Khan suddenly appeared above her. His orange suit showered her with dust as he moved, but thankfully it was only once. With an awe-inspiring agility, he swung back to her, looking down, face lined with anxiety. He reached a hand down to her. It hovered in mid air like an agitated bird as he anxiously ascertained whether she could do it herself or not.

It would be more preferable that she climb by herself. It would render her more self-reliant and confident should anything happen. However, the rumbling vibrations from the very rocks they were clinging to reminded him that speed was, at the moment, more important.

His gloved hand tightened on the rocky surface, his bare one grabbing at her arm, hauling her up bodily to the next foothold. He saw pain in her face and was sorry for it…but there was also trust in her eyes, a willingness to follow him. For that, he would do anything to save her.

She tried to help all she could, but it was awkward and difficult as well as painful. Sometimes, she couldn't get a good hold because of his grip on her, thus putting more weight on _him_ as they painfully inched their way higher.

Khan pulled, teeth gritting, sand getting in his mouth as he released Marla for a precious second and rolled bodily over the sharp rim of a rocky ledge. His patched up orange work suit scraped over the edge with the satisfying sound of tearing fabric. A flap hung down, exposing a triangular space of his brown leg, and underneath there was blood.

He barely noticed, however, as he leaned over and extended his right hand to the struggling redhead below him. She looked like a leaf; barely holding on, as if the howling gusts that whistled through the flooding canyon would tear her off and bear her way. The cloud of sand was rising; any moment it would swallow her up, burying her alive.

"Hurry!" he cried, "Give me your hand!"

Marla looked up at him helplessly, squinting against the sand, her teeth showing as she tried to breathe through something other than her nose, where the sand just poured in with no way of pouring out. For a minute he thought she was frozen, that she wouldn't move.

Then, after an agonizing few seconds, she did. She crawled up, her arms shaking so badly that Khan, in spite of himself, was scared. He leaned farther, his boots scraping at the sandy floor of the ledge, searching desperately for the tiniest hold on which to anchor his massive frame along with her added weight.

This familiar position…no, no thoughts! Not about that…he must _do_, not think.

Marla finally made it high enough. There was terror in her blue eyes as she reached out her hand for his, fingers spread out wide, trembling as she haphazardly lunged…and slipped. Khan smothered any sound of panic that tried to force its way out of his throat. Marla gasped and then, steeling her nerves, tried again.

His gloved hand grabbed hers. It held. He pulled. In order to come over the rim, Marla was forced to let go of the cliff entirely, her legs dangling in the air as she weakly grabbed his wrist with her other hand.

Raw nerves burned and pain wreathed its way up his arms at the sudden pressure. Khan's mouth tightened into a thin line, the widening of his brown eyes the only sign of discomfort. It was nothing compared to the horrible, suffocating weight of panic that slammed into his chest as he realized…she was slipping.

His traitorous hand couldn't do it. Like stretched cords that were snapping, tendons gave way, fingers cramping, numb, unable to lift. Marla felt it, but could do nothing. She could only look at him with sudden, helpless panic.

No. Khan was not going to lose her. "Marla!"

Her eyes flashed with newfound hope at his tone, and it caught in Khan's throat, because he didn't know what to do, or how he could save her. At least, not in time. The cloud of sand, writhing like a sea of nightmares, was a mere stone's throw below them, rising almost as fast as a man could walk.

Suddenly, a sunbeam broke through the misty sky above them, casting a vicious yellow sword of light straight into Marla's face. Her eyes fluttered in distress and she ducked her head. Then, almost instantly, she looked up again and gestured wildly. "Toss me!"

"What?!" Khan bellowed in shock, somehow making himself heard over the storm, "woman, are you insane?"

Marla gave him a withering glare, but knew better than to waste what precious little time remained to them. "There!" her finger stabbed the air as she pointed a little off to the left of the ledge, "a cave!"

Khan did not question her; he knew it was their only chance. His hand was weak…but his arm was strong. He felt it roll in his shoulder socket as he swung his arm back and forth, once, twice. Marla kicked forward impulsively, increasing the swing. Khan ignored the pain. His face was tense, brown eyes burning at her as he watched her precious form move out, away from the safety of the wall, into the cloud of suffocating dust, then forward. He threw all his strength into pushing…and she let go.

The sudden feeling of relief, of emptiness, of freedom, felt like a ton of ice in the bottom of his gut. He sat up and rushed to the other end of the ledge. Ignoring the throbbing of his arm and the numb pain in his hand, he slung himself over feet first. His left hand snapped shut on the rocky edge and he hung there by one arm for a minute, identifying the cave Marla had spoken of. Then, he easily swung himself inside.

At the same instant, the stone ledge gave way and fell with a boom that nearly shook Khan to his knees. He heard Marla shriek. The boulder dislodged a shower of sand from above, and the mouth of the cave was suddenly covered by a hissing, rasping, never ending curtain of sand.

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_**Author's Notes: Again, I want to thank my few devoted readers who are actually taking the time to not only read but also comment on this little oddity...may you live long and prosper! :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note: New update, finally! Bless you, my devoted readers. Hope you had a wonderful Easter. :)_**

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Now in pitch-blackness, Khan felt Marla's hands at his knees as her fingers dug into the fabric, clumsily using him to pull herself up. Her nails dragged over the slice in his leg, but he merely grabbed her and yanked her upright, ignoring the burning sting.

"You landed on my leg!" Marla cried in outraged pain.

Khan ignored that too. Hands tight on her upper arms, he guided her carefully farther back into the darkness, feeling the sand pile higher against his boots. There was no telling how far the sand would rise, or how deep into the cave it would travel. Khan could only hope there was no end to the tunnel, or at least not one that the sand could reach.

Of course, it would also be helpful if they were not buried alive and that there was some other way out of the cave. However, at least he and Marla were spared the painful death of being physically crushed by the flooded layers of the desert. He would accept each bit of good fortune as it came, not lament over things that had not yet happened.

It seemed to go on forever…the sand kept hissing at a level that threatened to deafen them, continually forcing them to move away. They kept taking careful, sparing steps backwards and still they met no end to the tunnel. Khan reached up with his hand. He could barely feel the roof above their heads, but he knew it was getting smaller. Which meant they were getting closer to a dead end…or where the cave became a hole that could lead to who knew where and was probably too small for them anyway.

And then, suddenly, it stopped. With a gigantic sigh, like a dying giant, the invisible flow ceased. Khan exhaled slowly, silently, closing his eyes tight as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was relieved, to put it lightly.

Marla's relief was much more palpable. As if the absence of imminent danger had caused her body to finally release all the adrenalin and tension that had been swelling in her small body, she collapsed against him.

He shook her gently. "We are alive. We are fine." What he really wanted to say was, _pull yourself together woman, you are an embarrassment._ But when he thought about it, that really wasn't fair. Marla had saved both their lives. She had performed admirably. He could allow her a moment of weakness. Especially since they were alone.

He lowered her to the ground, then dropped to a seat beside her. For a while, the only sound was their panting and the last rustling of tiny trickles of sand that sent quiet, whispering echoes through the cave. Khan wiped a thin paste of sweat and dust from his forehead.

The monstrous wall of sand a few feet in front of them acted like an oven, filling whatever space they had left with shimmering waves of heat. Marla's voice broke the quiet. "That was fun," it had a slightly hysterical note to it, but Khan was grateful that she was apparently keeping it in check.

"Hardly," he felt for his leg, which was now beginning to complain a little. All he could do was brush the tiny, aggravating grains of sand out of the cut. "It is certainly lucky for us that you spotted this cave."

"I'm not going to insult you by thanking you for not dropping me," Marla scooted close to him suddenly until their sides were pressed together. Khan could almost _see_ her wicked smile in the dark, "unless of course you just didn't want to lose a prized possession."

"That is exactly it," he retorted, "until I find a way of cloning, dividing, and preserving each and every exquisite part of you, I cannot risk any damage."

Marla snorted. "You're disgusting."

"I am Khan."

She squealed aloud at that self-important statement. After his initial surprise, Khan allowed a small smile of satisfaction to creep up his face. He found it hard to make her laugh. It was an art he had never really mastered, since she seemed to abhor his customary style, the kind of jests that made fat governors laugh and prideful queens simper, all the while staring watchfully at him from across the table. When he made Marla really, truly laugh, it was usually by accident.

She suddenly shifted away from him. He heard her boots scrape dully against the rocky floor as she got onto her knees and began to crawl farther backwards. He half turned, as if he could watch over her in this darkness when he couldn't even see her. He was quiet, conserving oxygen. He knew she would tell him if she found anything.

Which she did. "Khan…it's cooler back here…there's a feeling in the air…it's moving. I think it's a draft."

He shifted to his own knees and began to crawl after her. His invisible face was grim. "Do not get your hopes up. It could easily be a whistling crack, a fissure leading to the center of Ceti Alpha."

"Pessimist, it's a river!" Marla cried back, her voice echoing slightly.

Still pushing forward, Khan's searching hand suddenly felt her dry boot, which moved slightly under his touch. He came up beside her and flinched slightly as he felt the spray of a strangely silent channel of water. He stuck his hand in, unable to keep himself from impulsively enjoying a luxury all too rare…running water. Running swift and hard in one direction, entering on one side of the channel and exiting the other without any sort of obstruction.

He licked his lips; although the stones and the water were cold, the tomb of sand behind them was making the air stifling hot. The air was getting thinner. What little oxygen the water carried would never be enough to sustain them for a reasonable amount of time. He stood up suddenly. "Wait here," was his sharp order.

Marla saluted him mockingly in the dark, and then began to cup some of the cool water in the palm of her hands to drink. Khan didn't hear the rippling laughter of the precious element as it spilled from between her fingers and back into the arms of the stream, or he would have cautioned her to take only a little and test it first.

He strode back to the sand, gritting his teeth as it began crunching under his boots like broken glass, getting deeper and deeper as he got closer. He reached up with both hands and felt for the roof, pushing hard as he struggled to climb the sandy pile, slipping and stumbling as the floor started spilling out from under him.

He began to walk, using his body like a mill; he shoveled sand back with his feet, always walking. Sand spilled farther behind him, rustling over the stones as the monstrous pile eagerly accepted his invitation to come inside.

His arms and legs began to ache with the strain. He wasn't a machine. The sand was just growing, without any sunlight peeking through the top of the cave's mouth. Besides, it took several long minutes before he realized the heavy pounding in his chest and his now ragged panting was a result of oxygen starvation, not just exhaustion. He stopped abruptly, falling into the sand like the limp body of a dead snake.

_Get up._ He told himself, _get up! The greatest assassins of the age could not kill you…you are not going to let the shifting remains of a dead planet do what they could not!_

Fists clenching in the sand, he breathed out a hissing moan as overtaxed muscles strained to work again, pulling his legs and arms. He stood up and stumbled back into the depths of the cave again, towards the coolness, the water, Marla…

His boot dragged over a soft form that gave slightly. It was Marla. Lying face first on the ground. He instantly dropped down beside her, gathering her small, limp body into his arms as easily as a child's. She was still breathing; his heart gave a jump as she suddenly chuckled, her hand pawing at his shoulder. "It's easier t' breathe down there…"

"Easier to die!" He snapped. He reared to a stand, hauling her up in his arms. But the lack of air seemed to affect gravity itself, as if Khan had really been transported to another alien planet, one whose atmosphere had been stripped away. He swayed, trying to shake the drunken feeling out of his head, which had also started pounding. It was getting so hard to breathe…

"If I die…will I see you there?"

Khan's hands tightened their grip so suddenly that Marla squealed a little, startled by the pain.

_Joachim merely laughed. "When death is the only future to look forward to, you begin to wonder more about it. About the afterlife that follows, and whether you are worthy to embrace that afterlife. Whether your friends and loved ones will meet you there."_

Joachim had spoken like this; spoken of the afterlife, of meeting loved ones there…

Joachim had _died_.

"Silence!" his reply was drawn out, like the painful, tight hiss of a snake with the life being squeezed out of it. She was quiet.

When they reached the stream again, Khan knelt down, gently letting Marla sit up on the ground. He shook her a little, trying to wake her up. "Marla? Marla!" He brushed his long, strong fingers through her hair fondly. She seemed to react to the touch like a flower to sunlight. "Hmm? What?"

"We are going for a long swim."

Now she was wide-awake. "What? My head hurts…"

"The air is getting thin, I know. And it will only get thinner. There is a chance, a small chance I grant you," he waved a finger at her, "but it may be that this stream passes out into another cave, perhaps a bigger one, one with a passage to the surface."

"So we either suffocate here or take a chance on drowning?" Marla asked him. The calm in her voice surprised him.

"Yes."

"Ok." Was her simple answer. Amused and amazed, he shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips. "It is too bad we are in complete darkness…I would see your face one more time, should our almost impossible chance at survival prove to be too impossible."

He felt slender fingers touch and wrap around his chin in the dark. "That's a very sweet thought, your Excellency. Will this be enough?"

He felt her breath on his face, and the smile grew, stretching over both his cheeks. "For now."

"For now."

They kissed briefly, wanting to conserve oxygen. Then, Khan quickly lowered himself into the stream. While standing, it went up to his waist. He could already feel how strong the current was; pulling him a few steps along before he dug his feet in.

Marla slipped in behind him. She lost her footing completely and only saved herself by grabbing at him wildly, like a tree in a flood that she clung to for dear life. He didn't both helping her stay upright, but quickly moved her in front of him. He knew that he was bigger and, should he get stuck, he would be like a cork in a bottle, trapping both of them.

Marla was tense under his grip, but she was ready. Khan wasted one precious moment smelling the back of her hair, closing his eyes as he imagined that perfect red tinge, wishing he and she were safe together under a sunset that would paint it golden, like burnished copper.

Then, without a word, they dropped face first.

The water was cold. It roared in Khan's ears, it pushed against his skin with a constant, cold pressure that seemed to rise as he rushed forward. His hands, shoulders, knees, elbows, head…anything that dared to stick out was knocked against the rocky surface of the tunnel, harder and harder as he gained speed. Tiny aches flared through his bones.

He practiced relaxing his muscles, calming down…decreasing the amount of oxygen his body would use up in these last few seconds. He cursed his own afterthought as he realized he should have taught Marla the technique before they entered the underground stream.

He cracked his eyes open, fighting against the powerful urge to blink as the current slammed into them…it was dark, but there was a tiny, tiny grey light ahead. His hands clenched in readiness…this was going to hurt. And he must time it perfectly. Failure could mean death.

The grey light grew larger, and he began to see white in it. That was a good sign. It might be a sunlit cave, an opening to the surface. Blood vessels began pounding under his skin, throbbing as cramped lungs began to panic like starving children. His body shot into the light like a leaping minnow. He reached out, felt cold air lick his hand as it broke surface. Fingers crashed into hard, slippery rock, grasped tight…

He shot forward like a bullet until his arm brought him up short with a jolt that nearly tore his shoulder. Marla slammed into him a moment later, pushing out what little stagnant air remained in his chest. She was not limp, but she was struggling frantically …it meant she was suffocating. Instead of pausing to improve his hold on her, he heaved her above surface, kicking with his own feet. Their heads pushed above the water, choking on the water as it streamed down their faces in a mad rush back to the stream, gulping in raging, cold breaths of air.

But as Marla rose up, she shifted. Her ragged clothes ripped and slipped from between his brown fingers…his hand pounced through the water, trying to grab her again. Without a sound, she was sucked under. She slammed against his leg and it buckled as she disappeared down the black hole.

Khan instantly, without thought, let go and followed, with barely the presence of mind to make certain he was pulled in headfirst. Again, his head, his entire body, was entombed by water.

Khan felt like a blind man in a roller coaster. After scarcely eight seconds, however, he found her again. His hands touched a hand…she was traveling feet first. She returned the grip, feebly. The relief almost made something inside him lose control. Instead, he swallowed words it was impossible to say.

All this took so little time, but already he could feel suffocation threading its poisonous roots through his lungs again. Panic, that frail thing he had beaten into submission, began to roar even over the water in his ears.

Then, suddenly, his shoulder slammed into a rock with all the force of a gunshot. Marla tipped sharply downwards and pulled him along. Black spots swam inside his eyelids. He couldn't take this much longer, even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, like earth pouring out of a sluice gate, Marla was ripped from his grasp. The ground fell away and he shot out into the air, frigid wind wiping its way over his face and he gasped, eyes snapping open and shut, casting droplets out of them as he tried to see where he was…

And fell face first into water again. But this time, his face hit rock a split second afterwards, his body grinding forward a few feet before it stopped like a lazy boat, gently drifting up.

It was shallow. Without a current.

His arms and legs strained as he sat up with a roar, spitting out water, sucking in air…his head broke surface, and he was sitting. He was breathing. He was alive.

He barely paused to see where they were as Marla splashed towards him on all fours. She was pale with exhaustion, her mouth open as she alternately coughed and gasped. She struggled towards Khan and collapsed against his side, holding onto him as a baby holds onto a floater. For several long minutes they just sat there, breathing.

Marla's red hair was limp, hanging down straight but tangled around her head. Her breathing was rapid but shallow. Suddenly, she stirred, as if life had returned to her. She gave a breathless giggle that was weak and trailed off into silence. "And I'm always complaining…about being thirsty."

Khan was quiet; he was conserving energy, letting his body recuperate.

"That…was scary. Not something…I'd want…to do again."

"I doubt you shall have to," Khan replied this time, fighting manfully to keep his voice steady and strong even though he was still panting.

Marla chuckled again. Then she pressed her cheek against the wet, ragged material that served him for a shirt. "Where are we?"

The very second he tried to find the answer to that question; Khan suddenly realized where they were. The fourth watering pool, in the caves. They were near the camp…and they were defiling the water source.

He painfully straightened, lifting Marla gently by her arms and guiding her to the shore. Once there, they collapsed again, sitting together on the sandy, rocky floor. He blinked tiredly as sunlight from the setting sun filtered in. Less than half an hour since the sand flood first hit him…probably less than three minutes total for their underwater adventure. It was ironic how what felt like hours to him, so life threatening, sensually depriving, suffocating…was but a few minutes in reality. Long ago, he had learned that close brushes with death aged a man a little every time.

Which reminded him that he should communicate with the Augments, notify them of their survival, get them started on purifying the water pool…and probably a hundred other tasks he would remember as his gaze fell on the camp again. They did have to move more supplies into the summer caves…

"Come," he started to stand up, even though every muscle trembled and screamed in protest, the pains caused by all his exertion earlier that day finally catching up with him. Marla grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down.

"The others…"

"Lie down."

"I need to…"

"Not now." she interrupted him, cupping his cheek and gently, irresistibly pulling him down to the floor, where the sand and stones, hard as they were, seemed positively inviting, warmed by the sun, as still and dependable and predictable as the water had not been…safe, like their own bed. "We nearly died. Nearly drowned. I'm too tired. Think you are too…too tired to kill yourself by rushing right back to work. Let's just rest. Let's just celebrate being alive, just this once."

He _was_ sleepy. His eyelids, treacherous things, got heavier. Almost against his will, he felt his body settle into the warm floor. Marla scooted next to him. The air was cold as it licked the water on his bare skin. But she was warm. The floor was warm. She tucked her arms around his left one, cuddling it like a little girl cuddling a teddy bear.

Instinctively, his right hand crossed his chest and took her hand in his, wrapping around it safely. In less than a minute, they were fast asleep together.

* * *

Marla grimaced, digging her nails into the silver paper of her nutro-bar, fighting to pull it off without inadvertently leaving small silver shreds embedded in the sticky food. It was thick, brown, and smeary like chocolate, but the taste wasn't at all sweet. It tasted like crackers; old, stale crackers that had sat in a ventilation shaft for decades. The nasty stuff stuck between her teeth and left a horrible taste. It only got worse as it got older.

She crossed her legs self consciously as a huge shadow dwarfed her. With a heavy ease that spoke of tired but powerful muscles that hadn't been fully exhausted yet, Khan sat down next to her, leaning back against the wall of the cargo bay as he began to disassemble his own midday lunch.

"Since when does his Excellency deign to eat with peasants?" Marla spoke through a mouthful of sticky, gritty goo. She had nothing better to do…she was already tired and the heat was making her lazy and a little bit zany.

Khan didn't even look at her; he was used to his wife's antics by now. "Since the peasants have taken the only shade for several yards, I will not scorn their position."

"This stuff is horrible," Marla chewed slowly, dutifully…almost painfully. It was a chore to eat.

"Agreed." Again, Khan didn't look at her. When he next spoke, however, his words were slightly surprising. "I suppose you had better fare during your days on Earth?"

"Well, the service was better. And they had air conditioning."

She was rewarded by the slight turning up of his lips in amusement. He shifted sideways slightly until their shoulders were touching comfortably. "So thin-skinned."

Marla sighed, her eyes rolling up as deep and vibrant memories drifted across her vision. "Food. Not just purified water, but juice, carbonated drinks, wine, Champaign, Troika, milk…"

Khan's fondly irritated voice spoke volumes. _Woman, woman,_ "Not an appropriate topic for a meal in the desert, Marla," he reminded her warningly.

Marla barreled on, eyes dreamy, "And there was salad, with dressing, carrots, fruit, apples…toffee salad, Iceberg pudding…"

"Salad and pudding?!" Khan scoffed suddenly, finally turning to her with a disbelieving yet incredibly superior look, "No wonder you humans are so small still, if your diet has devolved thus! I trust the great Federation is not made up of vegetarian milksops?"

Marla huffed defensively, "Well, excuse me. I forgot to mention our more carnivorous menu…" she began to grin, her eyes sparking mischievously, "Mouthwatering smell, dressed with the finest herbs, fresh from the fire…a sizzling haunch of pork with glazed, burnt brown skin that tears into spicy bits of goodness when you bite, steaming, succulent meat that gives way before your teeth and melts on your tongue. Savory and deliciously raw at the center…and of course a gamey bit of venison…"

Khan had been visibly been growing more and more uncomfortable as she went on. She suddenly grabbed Khan's food away from his limp hands, taking advantage of his concentration. "Here, this shameful mess is unworthy of a good slice of boar. I'll just relieve you of it."

Khan snatched it back easily, a slight fury in his eyes. "What are you trying to do, woman…wife? Drive me mad?"

"Oh, I don't know…you're doing a good enough job of that without my poor help. I just want you to be happy," she purred mockingly.

She almost shrieked with surprise as Khan's brown hand pounced on her own nutro-bar and yanked it away. Something suspiciously similar to her own mischievous glint was shimmering in his eyes. "So do I. Therefore, I shall fetch you some sweet moss from the caves. That will doubtless satisfy your equine appetite."

Marla paused for a second, mouth open in astonished outrage as her mind searched for the definition to the word he had just used. "Are you calling me a horse?!"

"Why no, of course not!" Now, _Khan's_ voice was the one smooth with mockery, "…but now that I think of it, the resemblance is somewhat striking…"

Marla gave a female roar of playful rage as she scrambled to her knees. "Give me that, tyrant!" Determined to win back her food, she grabbed at the bar. Khan retaliated by swinging it further out of reach. Unfortunately, his great strength caused him to pull Marla along with it. She tried to move with the force but only ended up stumbling over his legs and falling onto the other side. As she fell, because she was still holding on to the bar, her body twisted over and she fell flat on her back on the sand, ripping the silver paper.

Khan raised his eyebrows and, with an amused smile, used both arms to pick her up and sit her down on the sand like a big doll. While he was doing this, a little girl…her blonde hair falling in a strangely attractive mess over her hazel eyes and cheekbones that were far too sharp for an eight year old child…darted around the corner of the cargo bay, floundering through the sand swiftly but silently. She snatched up Khan's nutro bar from where it had fallen to the sand, turned, and fled.

"Hey, HEY!" She had barely taken two steps when a terrifyingly powerful hand snatched her rags from behind and yanked her back. With a cry, her bum crashed hard into the sand as she flew back against Khan's legs, her head almost snapping back far enough for her to look up and see his face.

He took the bar from her clenched fist as easily as one would pick a violet; the girl shied away from him, scrambling to safety even as she turned to stare into the flashing brown eyes of Khan Noonien Singh; a phantom to the children, who were told that he would come at night and tear them limb from limb if they broke the rules. She was petrified, her dirty hands clenched in the sand, her tanned, bare legs shaking.

His roar of outrage didn't help. "Is one of _my_ Augments, _my _people…a _THIEF_?!"

Marla hurriedly pulled the hair from her eyes, flinching at the noise even as she recognized the child, racking her brain for a way to defuse the situation before it escalated, "Ermengild." Her voice was quietly reproachful, a stark contrast to Khan's.

The girl's pupils dilated as she glanced at her…something in Marla's face reassured her, comforted her, promised a defense before this merciless leader of her people, the one who stalked the desert with a face like granite and eyes like black fire.

Without looking away from Ermengild, Marla leaned into Khan to remind him of her presence, to keep him from acting rashly. "You know what to do."

Ermengild finally blinked. Somehow, her eyes seemed to shrink to a more manageable size. "S-sorry, your Excellency."

Her tone was pitiful, almost a whisper. Khan raised an eyebrow and grabbed the girl by the wrist. He was careful to keep it gentle, and as he did, he felt how thin and brittle the child's bones were. Even for an Augment, it was bad. She might be a thief, but she was one of _his_ Augments, one of _his_ people. She deserved his care and concern. His spoke quietly, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully at her. "Are you _that_ hungry, little one?"

She blinked at this tone, which did not seem to match her leader's reputation. Nevertheless, she didn't dare to lie to him. She blinked, nodding once before she remembered to answer respectfully, "yes, sir."

Khan's eyelids fluttered as her stomach growled aloud. He glanced at it; it looked too small for her huge limbs, powerful yet bony.

Then, he relented. "You had only to ask," he said scoldingly, "here." He held out the packet. "A growing child, perhaps, needs more than a man."

Ermengild grabbed the bar, not trusting herself to look into his face without bursting into shameful tears. Powerful fingers took her chin and forced her to look up. "However," his face was grim, his brown eyes glowering with unspoken threat, "I never want you to steal again, no matter how much you need it. If you do…I will make sure you regret it."

He released her face; the girl fled out of sight.

Marla took a deep, slow breath through parted lips. She watched her husband's face in the sunlight; he was staring down thoughtfully at the sand. All of a sudden, she felt like a somber cloud had been pulled over her mood and then pierced by a ray of sunlight too bright to look at.

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat, grabbed her bar from the sand, and then broke it in half. Impulsively, without really thinking about it, she offered him a piece. "Here."

"No!" Khan brushed her offering away rudely. "If the Augments are desperate for food, do you think I will take any from my own wife, a mere human?!"

That hurt. It was silly, he had said things like that so many times; yet it still affected her. Angry at both herself and him, she rebelliously dropped the half-bar in the sand beside her, sitting back against the wall with a thump.

Determined to be utterly silent and withdraw inside her own mind, she nevertheless glanced at him. She couldn't help but notice that he was still staring at the exact same spot, his bare, scarred arms loose on his slightly raised knees, his black hair, tangled, sitting limply on his shoulders, squeezing tiny drops of sweat out of the brown skin of his neck…and with all that discomfort, he still stared.

And then she realized; he was thinking about a starving child, about all the starving children, all the hungry, tired, depressed men and women who were his responsibility and trust…he was thinking about how he had utterly and inexcusably failed them.

* * *

Her fingers white and hard where they clung to the edge of the thick metal door, Marla peered from between slit eyes at the dull, blackish clouds. They looked like they had been dragged across the sky and bit by bit, piled there, lumpy and wet like fish entrails on the deck of a boat. Except the water pouring down from the sky was anything but friendly sea spray. It was acidic. Thousands of drops, cold and hard, they bit away the sand, the rocks, the cargo bays…falling heavily only to die on the metal surfaces, leaving streaks of red rust as if they were tiny bodies that had exploded in fountains of blood.

The only kind of rain they ever got was deadly. It stung bare skin. It was icy cold to the touch, but you could feel it piercing your cells, burning them, turning them white...any exposed cut would be filled with liquid agony. She shuddered at the thought, drawing her fingers farther back inside.

As if in answer, a warm figure pressed against her back, a chin pushed just above her ear as her tall, tall husband peered over her shoulder at the darkness outside, at the deceptive moisture pouring from the sky. "What do you find so fascinating?" He asked.

She leaned back into him. "Rain is always a miracle. Even if it kills."

"Poetical, with the foolish optimism so common to you humans," his voice was gentle enough. Marla had lived with him so long that his habit of referring to himself as a separate race no longer disturbed her as it had.

She grew nostalgic with the constant pitter-patter above her head, like hundreds of hard little fingers tapping on the roof. It was a comforting sound, as if the world around them was really alive, not dead. Her thoughts weaved back to another world, another life, where you could touch the rain and even let it run into your eyes without being blinded.

"When I was a young woman…a girl, really, still in my early Academy days…a friend of mine suggested that this other boy was attracted to me."

"Ah. Why am I not surprised?" he smirked. She didn't even need to look to see that he was doing it. It was in his tone of voice.

"I suppose…I lived in a society where women and men were almost…the same. They all held the same jobs, they all ruled, they all served…"

Khan's hands snaked around her waist and turned her around. She followed willingly, slinging her arms around his neck, looking up at his strong, brown face, chiseled now by the wind, tanned by the sun and sand…but she still saw the eyes of a king, so full of brown fire, brimmed by thick lashes. A mouth, strong and wide, breathtaking when he smirked, mesmerizing when he laughed….but so, so beautiful when he really, _really_ smiled.

She could tell he was barely listening to her, but she plowed on. "In my travels through the galaxies, I've seen matriarchal societies, patriarchal, oligarchial, dictatorial ones. I saw gender blurred, and I hated it. I hated the soft looking boys who kept fawning after me."

She reached up suddenly and traced the side of his face. Intrigued, not sure why she was doing it but willing to let her amuse herself, Khan raised an eyebrow. They were swaying together now, subconsciously using the pitter-patter of the rain as a sort of primitive music, as ancient and relentless as the beatings of their own hearts.

"I was tired of men being timid, apologizing before they'd even done something wrong…backing away from fights, trying to talk their way out of problems, crawling on their bellies to impress me…" her eyelids fluttered. Khan's smirk was long faded. His face was thoughtful now…he was actually listening to her.

Marla clasped her hands behind his neck again and stood on tiptoe, whispering, "I wanted a man who would kick the door in and carry me away."

"Oh, I could do that very easily," Khan grinned. She could tell from the tightening in his arms that he was getting ready to swoop her up and kiss her, that he was only waiting for her to stop talking.

Oh, she shouldn't say it. But her mouth spoke before her brain could stop it. "But where would you carry me to?"

The grin froze. Then, slowly, it dropped off, piece by piece. They stopped rocking. The pitter patter above their heads seemed to morph into something hostile, besieging…like the laughter of all the ghosts that floated eternally in the air outside, under the dead sky, under the sea of sand.

Suddenly, he folded her into his arms in a fierce, protective embrace and looked over her shoulder, his face emotionless, his eyes staring out at the hostile world beyond the opened door, the dark and the acid rain and the luminous glow of death that shimmered over the sand dunes at dusk. And when he finally spoke, it was a whisper.

Where would he carry her to, if the only hopeless wish that ever consumed his life were to come true…if his fantasy could become reality?

Where would he take her? "Away from here."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: Yes, update! It's been 84 years! The dinosaurs have come again! Well, that would be cool, but terrifying. Please enjoy, my devoted readers! You know who you are! :)**_

* * *

Joachim was taller now, a strapping eight year old. He ran on sturdy legs and pushed and pulled with insistent, frighteningly strong arms. Once he had accidentally caught his mother off balance and pushed her over into a pile of laundry...the entire camp's supply, no less. He was horrified and said he was sorry, but Marla suspected he found the image of her (thankfully) covered legs kicking in the air very amusing. In fact, she was rather certain Khan did too…there was definitely the ghost of a smile on his Excellency's face when he picked her up.

Marla had learned early on from her husband that there was nothing more difficult to control than an Augment. So she had been careful from the very beginning to use verbal commands, spoken punishments backed by Khan's silent, menacing presence. Joachim could be stubborn, but he was sweet. He rarely needed any other signal from his parents, although Khan had been forced to apply a heavy hand to the boy's backside once or twice, and a heavy hand from Khan was the equivalent of being slapped with a canoe paddle. Joachim couldn't sit down for hours.

Marla reflected on this as she watched Joachim strut in front of the mirror. His blonde hair was growing longer, like his father's. He never mentioned it, but she knew exactly who his model was. She had given him a strip of faded red cloth to tie it back. That, along with his motley suit composed of all the torn off scraps in the camp gave him the appearance of a miniature scarecrow.

He turned towards the door, intending to rush outside. "Hey!" she cried, half sitting up.

Joachim reluctantly turned around. "Yes, Mother?"

Marla forced herself not to smile at his little face, trying so hard to look all adult and responsible, yet mingled with childish loathing. She put one hand on her hip and pointed with the other at a bucket. "Salt. It's that time of day again."

Joachim grimaced, but clumped over in his small, cobbled boots and grabbed the pail. "Will we have some tonight?" he asked suddenly, a light in his eyes.

Marla smiled and used her thumb to rub a dirty smudge off the pointed chin that was so like his father's. "Probably. Who knows…we might even have something to eat besides cave moss."

"What do you mean, Mother?" Joachim asked, conveniently resting the pail back on the table.

"Your father said they had found a new life form…he didn't say what, just that it might be edible." Marla leaned back on the edge of the table.

" A life form?" Joachim let go of the pail completely in his excitement, plopping a fist down on his mother's leg. "Like an animal? A real animal? Like in the pictures Patricia showed us?"

Marla shrugged, not wanting to build his hopes up. "Perhaps…a really small one. Maybe just a worm."

"A pet?!" Joachim asked breathlessly. His face, however, took on a nervous quality.

Marla frowned; it broke her heart, but she knew it was better to make it clear in this way…sharp and inflexible. "You know why we can't."

Joachim's eyes darkened. Slowly, trying to hide his hurt, he picked up the bucket. "Yes," he muttered, turning and slowly walking towards the door, "we might get hungry."

At that instant, the door burst open. Khan came in; his robes seeming to float in the sandy wind as he slammed the door shut and leaned against it for a moment, facing away from them.

Marla straightened instantly; something was wrong.

But when Khan twisted around, his face seemed to be fine. He went over to Joachim, dropping his sand mask and bending over slightly. Then, to Marla's surprise, he reached down and gently pressed a hand to either side of the tiny, blonde head.

Joachim seemed as startled as she was; he froze.

Khan softly, slowly moved his fingers a moment, brushing through the downy hair, over the jawbone below each ear. Then, he let go and straightened up. His eyes caught sight of the bucket and he gave Joachim a light cuff. "Go get the salt."

Joachim hurried to obey, but just before he reached the door, Khan wheeled around as if he had forgotten something. "Wait!"

Standing between them, he lifted up both forefingers, pointing at wife and son in a gesture Marla had often seen him use in old video files when he was making speeches on Earth. But his eyes, when he looked from Joachim and straight into Marla's face…she could definitely see something wrong.

But he spoke on, "now, listen carefully, both of you. You must not go near the sand."

"But there's sand everywhere," Marla said cautiously, watching him for a response.

He looked at the ground, as if he could see something there. His voice was light, his face pleasant, but his eyes were horrified, fixed, and wide. "Ah, yes, I meant…of course, not to allow your _head_ anywhere near it."

"The eels?" Marla asked, raising her eyebrows in realization, "they're dangerous?"

He smiled in amusement; bitter amusement. "Yes, you could say that. They enter your ears, latch onto your brain, and drive you mad…Michael's son took one…we do not know if he will live through the night."

Finally, his eyes met hers. There was so much disbelief, so much anguish, Marla almost gasped. It was pain again, their old friend. Marla had the humility and the faith to allow it to puncture her without destroying her, but Khan could only wrestle eternally with it…he would not let it win, would never submit. He knew no other way. So it built up in him, heavier and harder, fueling despair and weariness and hatred, suffocating his soul.

It was the way he was built. He must either conquer or be destroyed. And Marla knew…in a way, _Khan_ knew…they would never conquer Ceti Alpha V.

She took an impulsive step forward. Khan met her, grabbing her hands wordlessly, the smile on his face faded and frozen, the pain in his eyes like fire, burning instead of illuminating him. For a minute, he just held her, staring straight at her in what Marla realized with utter shock was a mute plea for _help_…a plea he couldn't voice…_help me_…couldn't even voice.

Then, just like that, he dropped her hands and turned around. "I must return and help Erickson with cargo bay 4's repairs. Joachim, I see, has gone to get the salt…when he returns, make sure he understood what I said. I will not be disobeyed."

"I know," Marla said softly.

Khan left without looking back. Once outside, he paused, closing his eyes and leaning back against the burning wall of the metal cargo bay as it roasted under the desert sun. He tried in vain to get rid of the memory…

_The little boy…his screams...Khan watched as Michael clasped him fiercely to his chest, clawing off the critters, taking him home kicking and screaming obscenities…just a little boy, like Joachim…_

Khan swallowed roughly and forced himself upright, forced himself to open his eyes. He was beginning to feel nauseous and terrified, and he knew he must never, ever feel like that. So he swallowed deeply, body tightening as he forced the nightmare to the back of his head, burying it with all the other ghosts that ravaged his brain, all the other whispers that haunted his dreams.

* * *

"Yes, you were busy! Busy doing nothing. You were seen, Attila."

Marla heard Khan's voice coming from just beyond the scrapheap. Others did too and were making their way over to see what was happening. Marla propped the iron beam she had been dragging against a wall and followed suit.

As she made a wide curve through the sand to avoid the crowd of impossible tall, broad, immovable Augments, she saw Khan standing in front of a teenager she had seen often, loitering around while those of his own age were working under the hot sun.

The boy was good looking, with sharp green eyes and thick but fluffy brown hair. His body was well formed and his bearing was princely. He stood the judging stares of the crowd and the chastising glare of Khan far, far better than others would have…perhaps even Marla herself, if she hadn't been married to their leader and done a few things _no one_ else would have _dared_ to do to him.

"You nearly caused Augusta's death when you abandoned her in the sinking hole. Did it not occur to you that that pit might just start sinking again when evening came?" Khan's voice was like tempered steel. It reverberated sharply and clearly across the desert, but seemed to stab into his target with all the venom of a scolding.

"No, your Excellency…it did not occur to me," Attila answered honestly. There was an unsettling flippancy to his tone, as if he knew he'd done wrong and wished he hadn't…but also didn't care how hard his punishment was going to be...or at least, fought to persuade himself he didn't.

"If Augusta had been killed through _your_ negligence," Khan took an intimidating step forward, his eyes narrowing. Every eye followed him. "Then I would be compelled to kill _you_ in return."

Attila swallowed visibly, his hands clenching. There was a hush. Khan looked down at him, and suddenly Marla remembered him making the same face on the Enterprise _…exasperation, fury, disbelief…he utterly does not understand the human emotions he is faced with…"it's so useless!"_

Instead, however, he cried, "have you any idea what we are doing?! What we are responsible for?! It is not you…not me! We are responsible for each and every man, woman, and child!" He pointed at the crowd, still gazing angrily at the boy, "we are all fighting together, dying together…and you dare to serve yourself! You _dare_!"

Attila blinked, but stubborn rebellion began to rise in his eyes, along with the injured conceit of a man who hasn't even earned the right to be proud. Khan saw it, and the animated passion left his face, leaving it cold, grim, and resigned. He snapped his fingers suddenly, and the sound seemed to echo over the silent desert.

A man came from the crowd. In his hand, he held a metal pole. The end of it was red, glowing hot with a white, molten heart. There was a rustle, like a human sigh, that ran through the crowd. But still, no other reaction from these Augments, created to be as emotionless as they were strong.

Marla, however, took an impulsive step forward. She was sure Khan saw her, but he merely looked away. His face stern, he took the poker. Attila stepped back, but Khan was far too swift.

He grabbed the boy's wrist and, with one move that was so fluid and quick that Marla didn't even have time to cry out, he touched it to the poker. There was a hiss and a sizzling sound.

Attila gave a grinding moan of agony, slumping down as he tried desperately not to scream, too limp with pain to even fight back as Khan whipped off the poker and tossed it away. It landed in the sand, smoking.

He mercilessly tugged the boy back to his feet and held his now smoking hand out. There was a circular black mass of burnt flesh on the top of his hand. The crowd was absolutely quiet, mesmerized, enthralled. They had seen far more brutal things during the wars on Earth…but to have it happen here; to one of their own…it brought home just how much their actions affected everyone else.

Khan grabbed the back of Attila's neck, forcing him to look at the burn with teary eyes. "The mark of a man who serves himself," he whispered harshly. Then he let go. Attila stumbled away, his face torn between rage and shame and misery as the crowd parted from him.

Khan walked towards Marla.

She didn't know what to think. Every compassionate part of her being was revolted; to brand a boy, to mark him for life for one sin…one mistake, to hold him up as an example in front of every person in his life who would ever matter…it was barbaric.

She turned her face away from him. He didn't even pause, merely turning slightly so as to pass by her without touching, like shadows on the street.

* * *

Attila's father, Alexander, was a strong man, brilliant and fiery and persuasive, though not quite at the same level as Khan. However, he had long thought himself a more suitable leader. The recent humiliation of his son only gave him an excuse to prove it.

He challenged Khan.

The evening had been remotely pleasant, warm but without wind, as the nighttime chill crept over the dunes and mingled with what had been burning heat of the day. It was still warm enough to sweat, but you could move around outdoors without collapsing from heat exhaustion.

To save their dwindling energy stores, someone made a fire to see by instead of an energy lamp, using old scraps as fuel. It smelled horrible, but it shed a huge halo of yellow light, where some of the Augments sat cross-legged on the sand, performing small tasks, talking quietly…or just staring into the distance, meditating on who knew what.

Khan was sitting on the sand with one knee up, conversing with Julius and Patricia about whether they should spend more time moving supplies into the caves, as the weather seemed to be getting exponentially unbearable. It was a difficult choice…so much needed to be done simply to keep them alive every day. Gathering cave moss, salt, purifying water, repairing the cargo bays after every acid rain…it was a never ending puzzle that exhausted his mind and drained his spirit often.

Alexander came out from one of the cargo bays. Attila was nowhere to be seen, but his father had tied his sandy hair back, his face set like granite, his grey eyes reflecting the fire as a silver flash of light.

Khan saw him instantly; detected him by the difference in his walk, his bearing…perhaps even the change in the atmosphere that wrapped around every individual Augment like a floating representation of their personality.

He glanced once at Marla; her head was down. She was drawing pictures in the sand with Joachim, laughing as other children swarmed over to join the game. Marla was good with children; she had a gentleness, a calmness that children craved, that they couldn't always get from their loving but high-strung mothers.

Ascertaining that she was safe, not a target of whatever Alexander was coming up with, Khan looked back at the approaching Augment. Then, he stopped talking. His leg came down to join the other. He was on the alert. The change in his bearing acted like a trigger.

Patricia and Julius went silent. They glanced at each other, and then around the fire. Others who had been watching them or even just noticed out of the corner of their eyes stopped whatever they were doing. From them, the quiet spread like an invisible wave. All talk died. Marla looked up.

Alexander came into the firelight. When he spoke, his voice seemed to echo like the clear peals of a bell. "You burned my son, Khan."

Khan didn't even blink. His brown eyes reflected the fire, seeming to burn behind them, like a heart of flames hidden behind a sheet of glass, brittle but hard. They reminded Marla, somehow, of the burning fires of a palace courtyard of execution, or the Temple of Sacrifice under the Aztecs, or even the great torches used to burn the tiger out of the jungle. When he finally spoke, he didn't bother to remind Alexander that his true title was, 'Excellency'. His words were clear and deliberate, catching everyone's attention, exotic with the slight South American accent tempered by the soft tones of India. "Your son is a wastrel."

Marla caught her breath. The crowd seemed to be a cloud of energy, swaying first towards one speaker, and then the other.

Alexander's face darkened. "You did not consult with me."

"I did not need to," Khan's brown hand held itself out to the fire as if to get warm. His body seemed to relax, although the tension did not leave his muscles. His eyes, however, never left Alexander. Marla knew what he was doing; he was giving the man a chance to back off, to stop this when he still could.

"He is _my_ son…you did wrong."

The challenge in his voice felt like a physical punch to Marla's guts. She spoke hastily, impulsively, her tongue running away with her in a desperate attempt to avert disaster, "I'm sure we should've discussed it with you, but…"

"I did nothing wrong," Khan interrupted quickly, as if afraid Marla would say something really stupid if she continued. She felt the displeasure in his voice and inwardly slammed her head against a wall. Her husband, meanwhile, stood up slowly, smoothly, his height and impressive build seeming to tower over her and everyone else, no doubt his intention. His long black hair was loose around his shoulders, giving him a slightly wild and feral look. He repeated himself, "I did nothing wrong, Alexander. Your son disobeyed my commands and endangered the life of another. You know as well as I…he should have been executed."

Marla felt a chill at those unexpected words. She was too petrified to stand up, afraid of being caught on the same level as those two giants, afraid that all the insane, power hungry killers gathered around the fire would look at her and _see_ her.

Alexander merely grinned. "I would say you did wrong, Khan."

Khan's eyes narrowed. The beginnings of his princely smirk appeared on his face. "You may say it if you like. Say it here, in front of everyone. But if you do, _you_ will have the punishment your son deserved."

Dead silence. Then, as if on invisible signal, Julius and another Augment, Grant, moved up behind Khan, arms crossed. They knew who the strongest man was; they knew who would be the victor. But more importantly, they understood why Khan was avoiding a physical competition to the death. Because even if he won, he would be constantly challenged by every Augment who thought himself better than Alexander, constantly forced to kill more and more of them until he was finally killed himself. This meant he was wise. This meant he was worth supporting.

Alexander seemed unaffected. But something barely noticeable wavered in his gaze as he glanced between the two. Then, with a sinking heart, Marla saw his jaw tighten. The greatest killer of the Augments…._pride_…had stuck its claws into Alexander's heart. Now he was going to die for it. He was going to risk a gamble that the Augments would side with him against what seemed like tyranny and domination, something they would never have otherwise accepted. But this planet had changed them. They were not going to help.

"You did wrong!" Alexander cried, taking a bold step forward, almost frightened by his own daring, the adrenalin flaring in his eyes. Anyone could see, just by looking at him, that all he longed for was a fight to the death with Khan.

He was not going to get it. Julius and Grant rushed forward. Patricia and some other Augments leapt up from the other side. They overwhelmed Alexander before he even had time to cry out in surprise. Marla felt sick, felt like she had just watched one creature swarmed over by a pack of wolves. She stood up on shaking legs, staring at Khan, who had not moved.

He seemed not to have noticed her. The fire in his eyes flared brightly and he breathed through parted lips, looking like a mystic preparing himself for communication with the spirits. Marla knew what he was going to do. She grabbed Joachim with surprising strength, crushing him to herself, leaning over his head to release an agonized hiss, "Khan!"

Khan's eyes flickered. He looked at her and for a split second; she saw surprise there, as if he wondered who she was, what she was doing in his world. She gestured helplessly at Joachim and herself, than at Alexander, who was kicking and roaring like a trapped lion. She had no words.

Not too long ago, Khan would have given her a look of disappointed disgust. _"I had hoped you would be stronger."_

Now, something close to understanding flashed across his face. He nodded then sharply jerked his head towards a nearby cargo bay.

Marla grabbed the hand of the first child she could touch and dragged both it and Joachim away, fleeing to the shelter of the cargo bay. She shrieked for the other children to follow, praying that they would. She knew they had each seen a few executions already, but she didn't want them to see it again.

As she sat, shivering, with the children crowded around her, all she heard from outside was the mutterings. Khan's clear voice without words as it echoed solemnly out into the night, Alexander's spitting replies, and then…silence.

Dead silence.

* * *

Marla lay quiet in the bed, curled on her side, staring wide-eyed at the door like a wary rabbit. Not frightened, but wary. The children had gotten bored long ago, slipping out into the silent camp and, judging by the still-dominant quiet, probably returning to their homes. Joachim was sleeping in his little bed in the corner, his tiny fists clenched.

It was late now. The slight crack at the top of the doorframe was completely black from lack of starlight; at another time, it would have been the heavy, dead shade of being buried under mountains of sand. When that happened, Khan had to climb through the roof and help the other Augments in clearing it out. Or if they could afford to waste the time, they just waited for the next big windstorm.

But it wasn't sand. It was night, black and tired, pushing through the door crack like an oppressive force, clouding the air in shadows, dimming the tiny glow of the heat lamp.

Khan still hadn't come inside. She could imagine him standing with his arms crossed in front of the dying red embers of the fire, his face finely chiseled by the flickering shadows and orange light, his dark eyes hooded under darker lashes. Never moving, never speaking, just _staring_.

She often wondered what went through his head at times like this. What did you think about after killing a man with your bare hands? A man you'd eaten with, worked with, swore to fight with? A man who had a wife, a son, perhaps more? What did Khan think of? Was he proud of himself? Was he justifying himself? Or was he wondering what Marla would think of all this.

No, he wasn't that stupid. Khan knew exactly what she thought of it all. If only the favor was returned. If only she knew what _he_ thought.

At that moment, boots scraped over sandy metal; a hand grabbed the iron handle with so much force that it squeaked as it bent inwards and the door swung open.

Khan stepped inside and then halted at the threshold. His vaguely illuminated form was large and threatening against the inky blackness behind him. Sometimes, even when he didn't mean it to, his aura seemed to rise around him and imbue others with a sense of respect and submission, of awe and even fear.

Marla stiffened, but it was neither from her husband's threatening aura nor the chilly wind that tore in through the opening. She sat up, the woolen blanket twisting around her legs. Adrenalin began pumping through her body and she didn't know why; her hands shook with unused fury. "Why did you do it?"

Khan spoke quickly and loudly, as if he had been expecting this argument and was determined to win it. "He was a traitor and I gave him fair warning. They all heard me. _He_ heard me. He chose his own way."

"He thought he would win!" Marla cried.

"Then he was stupid as well as treacherous," Khan smirked, and his eyes were hard, "no one can defeat Khan."

Marla wanted to scream. As it was, her voice rose enough to make Khan shut the door behind him. "What does that have to do with it?! You killed him with your bare hands in front of everybody! You're an intelligent being and you wiped out another one without a single thought about it! Do you even care?!"

Khan narrowed his eyes at her, and his voice became low and tight. "Are you saying I did wrong?"

"If so then what are you going to do? Kill me too?!"

Khan's fist clenched. "That is not what this is about! I did not execute him because he _disagreed_ with me, you fool!"

Rage filled her. "You're right!" she was on her knees on the bed now, pointing at him in the dark, "what's wrong is that you don't even _care_! You didn't care about Attila, Alexander, or any of the people you make miserable on a daily basis! Oh, I understand there are things you _have_ to do…but it sure is easy for you since you don't care about anyone but yourself!"

Khan stalked forward with frightening speed in less than a second; Marla backed away, fighting down her natural fear of a tall, angry, often-violent man. Seeing him kill like that, without a spark of remorse…it seemed to wipe out that tiny, invisible part of him that she had come to believe in…that part of him that was her husband, her horribly arrogant, reassuringly strong, wildly tender husband whom she loved and adored. The man she had fought so hard to find.

Now, she could only see the beast, the primal fury in Khan's dark eyes as he leaned over her in the dark. "You speak of things that do not concern you!"

"I'm your wife!" Marla's mouth was being so courageous she was astonished by it. Everything about you concerns me!"

"ENOUGH!"

Khan's roar made her flinch. He was not used to being disobeyed; much less argued at. He was done arguing, he had given an order, and expected her to obey.

Well, he had another thought coming.

"Alright, you've had enough?! Well so have I!" She slid off the bed with a violent motion, grabbing a blanket and ripping it off the makeshift bed. Without saying a word, bristling with anger, she marched towards Joachim, who was lying wide awake on his blanket bundle in the corner, staring at his parents with big eyes, like a human watching godzilla and titanosaurus do battle.

"What are you doing?!" Khan asked sharply, suspiciously.

Marla plunked down next to her son. "I'm going to sleep!"

He pointed an outrage finger at her. "You will not sleep there! You are my wife, and you sleep with me!"

"I'm Marla McGivers Singh, and I sleep wherever the heck I want! Especially when my husband's being a tyrannical moron!"

Both of them were breathing hard, staring at each other from across the room. Although Marla was too wound up to appreciate it, Khan was at a loss. This was a battle he had never had to fight before, where you had to be _right_, or at least think you were, and you had to be _loving_ at the same time. He was at a severe disadvantage. He could not execute his wife, or brand her, or pick her up and _make_ her sleep in the big bed. That would just end in disaster, as all his attempts at forcing her had before, such as the time when she had almost died.

The thought sobered him, and he decided to withdraw with as much grace and dignity as he could salvage, to let this stubborn, irritating, _loud_ woman have her way. "Fine!" He picked up a random pillow and threw it at her. "Sleep there like a dog if you will!"

Marla flung the pillow away to the side defiantly, glaring at him. Khan tore off his shirt with a violent motion and threw himself into bed. Marla curled up on the floor.

Silence reigned supreme, feeling about as comfortable as a bed of molten lava. As the adrenalin withdrew, leaving her cold and weak, Marla was able to calm down and actually feel the world around her again. She noticed Khan's magnetic aura, always powerful even when he wasn't talking to you. It filled the room and, at the moment, was uncomfortably warm with rage.

And she sighed, inside. She knew Khan was leader of a violent, headstrong people all crammed together in a stressful environment. She knew he was the only one who could keep them all alive for any meaningful amount of time. She knew he had given fair warning, had tried to avoid the inevitable confrontation. She knew it was a choice, a hard and, from Khan's point of view, even necessary choice. She could understand that.

In fact, she might even be able to forgive him for it, if he'd only show some sign of… remorse. Some sign that the execution he had just committed actually troubled him. Some sign that he actually cared.

* * *

Marla's eyes slid open and she blinked in the semi-darkness, resisting the magnetism that wanted to draw her eyelids closed again, the heavy feeling in her body that longed for sleep. She was on her back, staring at the hard, long ribs of metal that made up the rafters. Her blanket had somehow been pulled off her side and she shivered involuntarily,

She wasn't sure what had awakened her. She heard Joachim's soft breathing, interrupted by a whispering rattle whenever he exhaled; the poor boy had a bit of an infection in his chest. She heard the long, drawn out creaking of the cargo bays, a sound she was so used to that it was practically background music to her.

Then, she heard a thump.

Her body stiffened with an alertness that would have made Khan proud. Everything on Ceti Alpha was hostile…weather, people, world…everything. Long ago, it had put her on the defensive. Recently, she had also learned to be prepared to go on the offensive.

Another thump. Taking a deep breath, she slowly, gently turned her head towards the sound; it came from the bed. A quick, jerky movement, unguided, clumsy, like a marionette being yanked on a string. A crack of burdened wood. Another thump. And then a harder one.

Khan twisted violently, his powerful arm slamming into the bed with so much force that Marla was sure his bones must have been ringing. Then his hand bunched into a fist and, without aiming, it crashed into the metal wall of the cargo bay. A hollow bang rang out, the metal dented, and a sharp snap issued from his knuckles.

And he still didn't wake up. Whatever nightmare he was having was far more painful then a shattered fist.

Without even thinking about it, Marla jumped up and rushed to his side, her light hands brushing over his hot shoulders and face, whispering to him in a singsong voice as she tried to call him back. His eyes were sealed tightly shut, but his face was creased in pain and a terrifying ferocity as he instinctively tried to fight off whatever was torturing his mind.

His hand caught hers like a steel trap. She gave a breathless gasp of pain, her knees buckling as he squeezed tighter, tighter…a bone in her palm gave a queer popping sound, and she cried out in pain.

Instantly, Khan was awake and sitting up. The large, cruel hands that had hurt her now mercifully let go and grabbed the bed instead, fingers digging into the blankets. Huge, ragged breathing caused his body to pulsate as he panted, sweating, staring at her without seeing her.

Slightly confused yet still in pain, Marla wordlessly clasped her hand to her chest and stared into his dark brown eyes. The pupils dilated rapidly, showing that a deep part of his mind was still wrestling with the last horrible, phantom shreds of his nightmare.

Silent, breathing hard in the dark, they both stared at each other. Joachim's feet made a scraping sound as he shifted in his sleep, disturbed by his mother's cry but still not as alert as his father. The pain in her hand fading, Marla reached down and touched Khan's lower arm again, trying to say that she was there for him, that she trusted him.

Khan instinctively watched her hand as it moved, his brow furrowed as if his thoughts were far away. Then, he looked back up at Marla. His lips were partly open as he breathed through them, his face was lined with exhaustion, and his eyes were still wide. But as he looked at her, a feeling of peace began to blossom in them.

He was grateful for her presence. His hand took hers again, only this time, it was gentle. Marla did not pull away.

Then he spoke, his voice thick and low, watching her desperately for her response, "I did not…enjoy…killing him."

That was all she needed.

She put her knee on the bed, purposely not looking as the relief flooded Khan's face and the anxious lines around his eyes smoothed away. He scooted to the far side against the wall. As she pulled the covers over herself, she felt the almost imperceptible way he shifted towards her, as if he was instinctively seeking comfort from her.

He didn't thank her; she didn't expect him to. But he did wrap her in his arms, stroke her hair…and finally, just before she felt herself drifting off, she heard him whisper, "I love you."

It coaxed a beautiful smile from her face, a wonderful feeling as she realized that Khan actually _needed_ her…for some reason she never would have thought of, Khan needed her with him to hold his darkest nightmares at bay.

And, she concluded, as she smoothed his dark hair back from his face before falling asleep…she didn't mind in the least.

* * *

_Marla struggles, legs straining, arms trembling, literally crawling on all fours as she claws her way to the top of an enormous sand dune…it shifts around her feet and tumbles down, down to the bottom. She doesn't dare to look, knowing that if she does, all she will see is a swirling hole of bottomless darkness, gaping below her like an open mouth, waiting hungrily for the first slip she makes, to swallow her helpless body as she falls. To swallow her into darkness and close its sandy lips and bury her alive._

_And suddenly, Marla falls heavily forward, There's a weight in her arms…she looks down into the brown little eyes, wide and sweet…chubby cheeks, downy black hair…it's a baby. Her baby._

_Instead of joy, pure terror shoots up her body, so strong and sudden that it hurts. She gasps, hugging the baby tightly to herself. She's just found him, and she knows she can't keep him. Because the planet has claimed him for its own._

_But no….this time she'll fight. She'll fight to save her son. She digs her boots into the burning sand, her back aching as she forces herself up, and up…up towards the crest._

_And then she trips. She falls heavily on her stomach, her chin and lips cut by the burning sands that feel like molten glass. Then, the baby is ripped from her arms. It's happened so many times before, always the same way, and it never stops hurting. He slides silently, swiftly, terribly down the hill, down, down towards the black hole, which widens as if to meet him. She makes a step to run down, to save him, or at least hold him as they die together. But the sand has become a million tiny hands, clutching at her, holding her there. Her baby is swallowed by the sand, and Marla screams._

Even before her eyes opened, Marla felt the warmth of another body, of arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her up in a sitting position. Her head lolled as a hand cupped her face firmly. "Marla! Marla, my dove…wake up!"

The voice caused her to blindly lean towards him, to return the embrace and hold on for dear life to her husband. Khan held her around the waist, letting her lean on him, letting her breathe.

Marla felt stupid and weak, but safe. Her fingers dug into the knotted fabric of his shirt as she tried to fight of the sinking sensation of falling, falling through the bed and through the floor and under the sand below their feet. "I'm sorry…"

"No," he interrupted her sternly, "do not be sorry."

His hands moved to rub her shoulders, slowly, steadily…it was warm and comforting. Marla concentrated on breathing, on letting go of the fading yet vivid images of what she had forever lost, but never forgotten. The words tumbled from her mouth, "I dreamed about the baby."

The rubbing stopped.

Not noticing, Marla took a deep, shuddering breath. "I feel so stupid," she whispered.

As if her self-criticism forced him to come out of himself in order to protect her, Khan resumed massaging her back. "Do not feel stupid either," they were breathing together now, in and out, in and out. "Dreams…" he spoke thoughtfully, as if he was trying to persuade himself as well as Marla, "they can be blessings or curses, over which we have no power. I myself…" he paused, and Marla opened her eyes, "I have bad dreams as well. I simply do not show them as you do."

She pulled back and looked straight into his face. He saw the look in her blue eyes and glanced away, choosing to gaze at her wild red hair instead. An action that he would never, ever have allowed himself to perform outside of that strange, surreal moment in the dark, between sleeping and waking, between dreaming and gazing, with the one person he trusted and loved most in the whole world held in his arms. It was, simply put, a way of telling her he was lying and didn't want to talk about it.

And Marla understood. This was a lie he had to cling to, for his own sake. Although nightmares attack us when we our at our most vulnerable, he still _had_ to pretend he was strong; too strong to bend and bow, too stubborn to break.

So Marla simply smiled, laying her head back on his chest as she gazed over the side of the bed. Then, a small, scruffy blonde head popped into view. Joachim rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, staring at his parents. They both looked at him as if to say, _well?_

The answer was obvious, although neither even thought of it. "Mother was screaming…can I sleep with you?"

"No, you may not!" Khan's voice wasn't loud, but it was disparaging, as if Joachim had asked for a dress to wear.

"Yes of course, darling," Marla leaned away and patted the bed between them, shifting her body lengthwise again. Joachim's eyes widened, but he didn't dare to take up the offer without his father's approval.

Khan raised his eyebrows at Marla's abrupt contradiction. "It is unseemly…"

Marla gave him a full-blown glare. Again, that midnight magic seemed to work, as Khan actually surrendered without another protest. He closed his eyes and nodded at his son like a prince giving a great gift. Reverently, Joachim crawled between them and burrowed under the sheets.

Marla kissed her son on his forehead, breathing a prayer of heartfelt thanksgiving that at least, at least this child was spared. Khan lay awkwardly apart from the tiny form for a minute, but then, his large hand experimentally extended over the boy until it wrapped around Marla's waist, sandwiching Joachim between them.

The boy grinned and wriggled importantly, making it loud and clear that he was making himself comfortable. Khan nearly smiled, but managed to turn it into a glare as he poked Joachim gently in the ribs to get his attention. "Just this once," he warned.

Marla grinned at him; he smiled back. Then, they fell asleep. Each one felt warm, safe, and loved, and there were no more nightmares.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note: I think maybe two or three chapters after this, and we'll be finished with our journey through Ceti Alpha. Thanks again to you wonderful people who are sticking with me until the end! :)_**

* * *

It was late evening. The sun was a bright, burnt orange on the horizon that shot laser beams of light into their eyes whenever they dared to look at it, laser beams that seemed to pierce through the eyeball and dance on the tender nerves behind them, and each footstep was a throb of pain that made them blink and look away.

There should be noise now. Children should be coming out of their homes to play in the still warm sand before the icy winds of evening swept over them, making things crack and split with the sudden, violent change of temperature. Parents should be coming back from whatever hard labor was being done around the camp or in the caves. They should be milling around as the silver bars were distributed, should cluster in murmuring groups as their tongues, not completely stifled by their physical exhaustion, began to make tired small talk, to associate with friends they barely recognized by the glaring light of day.

But a hush was seeping into the world around them like water into a towel, suffocating them, smothering them. They were all quiet, all clustered together in one large circle.

It had been a hot day. One of the hottest so far. There had been no sandstorms, no wind to wipe dry sand across their sweating skin. Just the heat pushing down on them and the sand steaming up at them, a constant pressure that seemed to force all their strength out of trembling, shaking limbs. And still, they worked.

In the center of this circle, his legs crossed, his strong back bent like that of a beaten animal, sat Nyguk. His mother, an Augment bandit named Tsei-Tso, had terrorized Asia for years during the great Rebellion, when the Augments rose up and overthrew their scientist-mentors, overthrew the very governments that had paid to create them. Tsei-Tso had been too late to take the throne in New-Peking before her future husband, Leo de Soto, claimed it for his own and produced an army to defend himself. They fought each other bitterly and spilled enough blood to water several farms before they fell in love and had Nyguk.

He had the dark, thick hair and slanted eyes of his mother, but those eyes were blue, like the wide, low sky of Spain. The parents had been proud and violent; the son had been proud and bold. Once, he would have been a great king. Now, he was an exile in the desert.

For many weeks now he had spoken aloud of his past, of the beauty of Asia, the snow capped mountains and green, low valleys of China, the spicy sea that flowed around its shores, the sweet flute notes that echoed in palace halls. The pink blossoms of the cherry tree, the smooth feathers of the nightingale. But what was alarming was the fact that he kept speaking even when nobody was listening.

Then, that morning, he had come out of his hut, taken a good look at the sun and then just sat right down on the sand, legs crossed. He refused to move. Khan was called. With a surprisingly delicate blend of gruff kindness and stern authority, he tried to get the man to snap out of it and get back to work. Nyguk said nothing.

With a growing dread in his stomach, Khan announced that the sun would soon drive him to move; they would check on him in the evening.

The evening came, and he was still there.

"Nyguk, this has gone far enough," Khan's voice broke the silence. The crowd seemed to shift towards him in tense relief, like children in trouble who see a parent enter the room. Khan crossed his arms and moved to stand directly in front of Nyguk, blocking the sunlight.

Nyguk was undwarfed by his shadow. He merely looked up. "It certainly has. Far, far too long, you have kept us here, made us eat and drink and work and sleep…what for? Look at the sand…" he gently picked up a handful and let it trickle through his fingers, "look at it, Khan. It is here, it is endless, it is the most powerful thing left on the planet…and it is not even alive." He dusted his hands off and smiled blankly up at Khan, "don't you understand?"

"You are speaking nonsense and worrying your friends. Get up!" Khan barked.

Nyguk reared suddenly to a stand; Khan imperceptibly swayed backwards, surprised. "Alright, I am up. I obey the words of the great Khan…am I any better for it? Am I free from this planet? No."

The crowd listened, enthralled. Khan stared at the man, his face dark and foreboding, warning him to stop before he went too far. Nyguk ignored him. "Do you not understand, Khan? The only things that can survive on this planet are the dead!" he leaned forward suddenly, thrusting his face towards Khan's.

Instinctively, Khan shoved him back. Nyguk stumbled. "You will soon join them if you keep up this foolishness!" Khan roared, "You think we have time to nursemaid your insecurities and dissatisfaction? Your wanton despair? If you can eat that, then well and good. But if you, like us, need sustenance, then I suggest that you, like us, keep working!"

Nyguk laughed shortly. "You are living a lie, Khan. Living a lie and _forcing_ us to live it too! What gives you the right?"

"Since you swore to live _and_ die under my command! Since you elected me as your rightful leader and eagerly took the chance of escape I offered you!"

Nyguk threw his hands out wide; his eyes, everyone suddenly noticed, were dilating wildly. Sweat streaks had dried along his face during the burning afternoon. It was a wonder he was still standing there. "Yes, thank you, your Excellency! For we have escaped to hell!"

"We are alive, you fool. If you wish, however, to die, by all means despair and help satiate this planet's appetite." Khan's fists were clenched. He watched the man warily, unsure what he would do next. He had never before seen an Augment gone mad with hopelessness.

"Yes, yes! Now you come closer to the truth…" Nyguk approached again, heedless of peril as he invaded Khan's personal space, planting a finger square on his chest, grinning, his voice wavering with the force he used to push it out. His eyes, wide, blue, wild…stared into the dark fire of Khan's brown ones, searchingly. Then, as if he had discovered the darkness he sought, he smiled like a demon finding a friend. "We…we are all dead. All we have to do is lie down in the sand to sleep. Let us stop the charade, shall we? Stop pretending. Let us join the ghosts, let us be sucked into the darkness, deeper and deeper into nothingness…in your heart, you know this to be true."

At these last words, Khan's eyes widened with what might have been considered panic; but he quickly hardened under this new kind of attack, his jaw clenching, face working with outraged fury. He spoke, but anyone could tell it took a terrible amount of willpower to keep his voice level and strong. "The question here, Nyguk, is not what I believe. The question is whether you are going to work again…to _live_ again. As long as a man has faith, he is never truly dead."

"Aha!" Nyguk cried excitedly, his eyes glinting madly in the evening sun, "there! Where did you get that idea? It is not your own…it was given to you."

At that moment, Marla pushed through the crowd. She stopped uncertainly, worriedly. Whenever she saw Khan in confrontation with another Augment, she always feared the worst. Nyguk's eyes lit up with a mad, frenzied flame, his own hands clenching into fists as he stared at her over Khan's shoulder. "The woman…the little, watered down human, who betrayed you most unmercifully, who gave us over to the power of Kirk and his fellows…."

Khan quickly glanced back and saw Marla standing there, eyes wide, mouth partly open as she stared urgently at him, mutely asking what was going on. He flew back to look at Nyguk, a strange tension building in his body, like a spring never used before. It was worry. Worry for a loved one. "My wife has nothing to do with this." The look in his face had changed from grim to deadly.

Nyguk sidestepped to get a better look at Marla, pointing at her. Khan moved with him, keeping his arms away from his body. "The she-demon who buried us here! It is all her fault…"

He was cut off instantly, violently, as Khan's brown hand clamped onto his throat and shoved him backwards. Caught off guard, Nyguk tripped in the sand and fell. He caught himself, but he wasn't even looking at Khan, wasn't even looking at the man who just attacked him. It was then that Khan knew he was truly mad. Still staring at Marla with fixed, glazed eyes of hatred, he got up and started rushing towards her.

"She buried us, and now she will not let us lie in peace!"

Khan slammed himself bodily into Nyguk. Marla turned to retreat, to take herself out of a situation she knew she was only making worse. With a start, she realized the other Augments weren't letting her through. She wheeled around again, betrayed, caught between a hammer and an anvil, unable to save herself or her husband.

Sand sprayed from beneath the combatant's boots…it was a messy struggle. Nyguk had no control, no strategy or grace. He merely kept trying to drag himself towards Marla, to grab her and probably kill her. Khan kept throwing him back, panting, teeth clenched. Nyguk was insane. He would not listen to reason. The crowd was watching their leader and the maniac struggle over the woman, as if they were two beasts fighting over a bone. His esteem in their eyes was plummeting. Their hostility felt like a warm, prickly fence around him as he cursed Nyguk in his mind. Khan was losing control of the situation …something that could never, ever happen.

But he could not call for help. He could not show weakness and cry out for anyone to come forward and hold Nyguk down; he had started this fight impulsively, out of pure instinct, to protect Marla. He had started it with his bare hands; he had to finish it in the same way.

Finally, he crushed the already exhausted man into the sand face first, holding his arms behind his back. Taking a second to breathe, he leaned over the struggling Augment, flicking black hair out of his eyes. "Now, Nyguk," he whispered harshly, "will you be still?"

Nyguk went limp. Khan held his breath, hoping against hope that the madness had somehow, impossibly, lost its target. Then, the man nodded sharply.

Khan got up, willing the adrenalin fuel to flow through his limbs and not linger where it might cause his hands to shake. Nyguk struggled up but stepped back from Khan warily. Still looking at him, Khan held his hand out behind him, towards Marla. "Marla," he said; his voice was clear and controlled, "come here."

Marla moved forward; afraid, yet knowing that she had to support him; that she had to trust him. Khan put an arm around her shoulder and brought her close, facing Nyguk defiantly. "Now, Nyguk, is there something you wanted to tell Marla?"

Some of the Augments would have smiled, had the situation not been so serious and, as they could instinctively tell, important.

Nyguk snarled. He lurched drunkenly towards the crowd, reached a still-standing Augment, and whipped out his knife. Again, no one interfered; they wanted to see where this was going. And some, although they wouldn't admit it…some of them had listened to Nyguk and believed him.

Marla felt Khan's fingers dig into her upper arm as the knife appeared; but he made no other movement. She wanted to faint. Nyguk was just as tall as Khan if not a little taller; strong and burly and capable of cracking her spine with his bare hands. And now he was trying to kill her. She relished the pain in her arm, because it kept her focused, like an anchor in a storm.

Nyguk held the knife, feet planted far apart as he glared at Marla. "You have corrupted his Excellency, Marla McGivers. What he saw and maybe sees in you…none of us could see it. We never thought your alliance would last longer than a season. But you…you think you strengthen him with this talk of a heart that not only pumps blood, but also loves and believes and sacrifices? Why not spare yourselves? Why not let us die in peace?"

He turned to look at Khan; the world had gone dead silent again. All eyes watched them. "And you," Nyguk sneered, "great leader of men…protector of my mother, murderer of my father! Father of these Augments whose brothers and sisters you slaughtered during the war! What are you doing?! What are we doing here together? We don't belong. We kill. Or we are killed. There is no one left to kill…" he looked around wildly, as if searching for a target. People stepped back, "then it is high time we were killed."

He looked up at the sun as it was settling on the rolling dunes that bordered the horizon. He didn't even blink as it pierced his eyes. Instead, he brought the knife up, touched it to his neck, and stabbed right through it with a wet, crunching sound.

His eyes widened, staring out accusingly, as if he couldn't even believe he had done it. Marla cried out in shock, her hand flying to her mouth; even the crowd of Augments gasped. Before Khan could take a single step forward, Nyguk fell into the sand with a lifeless thump, like a heavy rag doll.

Aghast, Khan stared down at the corpse. The people stared. No one moved. It was almost as if they were afraid to.

Then, Marla knelt softly by the body. Without blanching, she felt the bloody neck for signs of life, put her ear to the mouth, listening for the soft touches of breath…she felt nothing. Her blue eyes were sad. "Poor man," she said tenderly, closing the eyes that had been staring so wildly less than a few seconds before.

Khan marveled at this sudden show of strength from Marla; but he had little time to muse over this surprise. The Augments. He could feel their gazes, burning into him. And his inherent instincts told him exactly why. In their eyes, he had just sided with human against one of their own, madman or not. Furthermore, what had been whispering in their minds for a long, long time had finally been outspoken by this maniac who had so suddenly and forcefully been silenced.

The little human female made Khan weak. She divided his loyalties, dimmed his concentration, poisoned his willpower. He was not the fierce murderer king they all feared and remembered; he was a man who killed only when necessary, and ruled with his words rather than a sword. And it all happened when the planet died and he began spending more and more time with her, in the secret darkness of their own shelter. _She-demon, pretty-poison, witch-soul_…

They hated her. But not because of whatever fantasies their boiling brains had cooked up…it was because she was at peace. She had a strength, a control that none of them, for all their power, could seem to find. They were jealous. They did not understand. So she instantly became a threat, a threat they hated.

And now, Khan was not just their leader, a target for assassination but also a respected and even admired warrior: now, he was a traitor.

* * *

Marla found him later; standing with a shovel by the rubbish pit. He should have been digging there; sand was always falling in and demolishing the boundaries of what was, sadly, one of their most valuable resources.

When he heard her soundless steps behind him, he flipped the shovel upright and began digging busily; but before that, he had been as still as a cold, hard monument of stone. That was wrong. Khan Noonien Singh was never still. Even when standing in one place, his breathing caused his body to swell ever so slightly and made him just seem like a birthplace of _life_…as all the Augments seemed to be. Men at their greatest…strong, swift, deep breaths, bright eyes, tall enough to look down on all and powerful enough to subdue anything. They were beautiful and awe-inspiring and terrifying.

But at the moment, Khan seemed far too brittle to be terrifying. He shot her an unwelcoming, hard glance as she came up beside him; his hands clenched tightly on the handle of the shovel. She threw the armful of rusted metal in with a clatter, then stood there, watching him work.

"Well?" Khan said at last, turning to look at her as she knew he would, "what do you want?"

Well, that was rude. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Instantly, his eyes narrowed with a defense so desperate that it ended up being an attack. "What is wrong is the fact that my wife is wasting my time with her idle chatter and unjustifiable curiosity."

Marla felt the back of her neck go hot. "Sorry I'm wasting your valuable time…I see it was very well used indeed, staring into space for half an hour."

"It could have been, yes," Khan growled stubbornly, "my genetically engineered intellect might just have been coming up with a few ways to save our lives just a little longer."

"That's a big lie if I ever heard it," Marla muttered, "you don't snap when you've got a brainchild, because you're so proud of yourself."

"I do not get 'proud of myself'!"

Marla snorted helplessly, covering her mouth as she fought to suppress the rising tide of laughter in her stomach. Khan glanced sharply at her. He seemed to realize what he had just said, and his face softened. A reluctant, almost sheepish smile crept up his face. "And the sands are not sandy, and the sky is not blue, I know."

"This one isn't, anyway," Marla shook her head, reaching forward fondly to touch Khan's arm. "What was absorbing Napoleon's concentration today?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "I would not be compared with Napoleon for anything. He was a bold but irregular thinker…hardly a true genius."

Somehow knowing that he was just trying to avoid her question, Marla gave him a cynical _you've-got-to-be-kidding-me_ look.

Responding with an amused smile, Khan moved to hold the shovel with one hand, wrapping his other arm around her slender shoulders. "You are far too inquiring for your own good, Marla."

"Well, _my_ good is not what's worrying me right now."

Khan didn't reply. His brown eyes shifted their focus as he gazed out over the hot sand dunes afar off, casting long shadows in the dusk. In the sudden silence, Marla could hear the low moan of the wind as it scattered the sand, causing it to rustle like a sea of tiny voices.

"Do you believe in..." he stopped, deliberating, his brow furrowed in concentration, staring out at the desert as if it was a difficult math formulae or a hidden enemy, "do you believe in ghosts, Marla?"

Impulsively, Marla hugged him around the waist, resting her head on his chest, forcing him to turn away from the horizon as she stared out at it herself. A long, long time ago, she would have laughed. Now, as the wind moaned and the sands rustled beneath their feet like something underneath, something _alive_ was moving, trying to come up…she realized with a peculiar start of terror that the idea wasn't so funny anymore.

But still, her mind, rational, calm, worried…it came to her rescue. "No, I don't," she looked up into her face, gracing him with her best smile, "I don't give a hoot about ghosts."

Khan smirked bitterly, turning to look out at the desert again, "it is not you who buried them."

Marla's eyes widened. She grabbed his face and turned it back, almost roughly. "Oh, no you don't! Don't you start blaming yourself now! It's far, far too late for that." He jerked his face out of hands. She kept talking, "What about me?! I freed Kirk and helped him retake the Enterprise! Wasn't I the one who betrayed you all in the first place?"

"No!" His outraged roar startled her, "It was I! I betrayed my people by closing my eyes, by trusting a human woman…and I betrayed you by taking _your_ trust and bending it for my own purposes, by taking your heart and your love and forcing it into a shape where it would not fit."

Marla was shocked; for a long time now, she had known that Khan regretted his actions where she was concerned. But she had not realized just how deeply he blamed himself, nor just how far his self-crimination extended. And she suddenly realized that he considered _everything_ to be his fault: the defeat, the exile, the hardships, all the deaths, _all the ghosts_…

"No," she realized her voice was trembling and brought it down, "you couldn't have known…"

"I _should_ have known!" He cut her off harshly. When she looked up, she saw so much pain and guilt in those eyes…those eyes of a prince and a warrior and a man she loved more than anything in the world…she reached for him wordlessly, not knowing what else to say or do.

Anger and longing warred in his face for a split instant. But then, disgust poisoned it. "What, shall I seek more weakness from your arms? More reward for my _gift_ to us all? Shall I _forget!_?" The last word echoed across the desert as he stared wildly at her, as if wondering why she couldn't see how he was responsible for everyone's misery.

Not even realizing how much his words hurt her, he left her, the shovel still standing upright, forgotten, in the sand.

Marla grabbed the handle to steady herself as she nearly fell to her knees. She sniffed, then realized she was crying.

_Oh you stupid, stupid man! She roughly wiped the tears away, seeking emotional safety in rage, how could you…how **dare** you…I lived with you for ten years, and you never thought to show me that you were carrying the weight of the world on your back! Why?! You're being crushed inside, and you were too proud to let me see, too proud to let me help._

* * *

He enraged her with his arrogance, his way of looking at the world as if it was shaking in his shadow. He exasperated her beyond words with his misplaced values and false beliefs, his idolatry of strength and control, his disgust for kindness and compassion. He frightened her and turned joy to ashes with his outbursts of rage and his periods of stony, brooding silence. He worried her because of the way his life seemed to be empty of everything but the drive to lead, so powerful that sometimes she thought he didn't care if he _lived_.

But he loved her.

She knew that. She knew it because he would listen to her words even when he didn't agree with them, that he would seriously consider ideas that to him seemed strange and unnatural. He would take the time to explain even if he was wrong, because he thought he was right and truly wanted her to share his beliefs. He would carry Joachim outside if she was tired and take her workload upon himself if he thought she couldn't handle it. He never hit her. He never tore her down with words…at least, never maliciously, for the pure cruel joy of seeing her pain. Despite what he said or pretended, he would do anything for her.

And he fought for her. She knew how hard he had…and still was…struggling with his natural passions, his desires that he had given reign to for so long, that everything he had ever learned or experienced told him he _should_ let run free. He was holding himself back for her all the time, denying himself and his pride. All for her.

Because he loved her.

Marla was happy with how things were going. Khan was, slowly but surely, changing into a better man. A man of strength, goodness, love, fire…but now, this new demon had reared its head. The beast was not yet defeated, and it had struck back cruelly by taking a noble impulse: responsibility, and turned it into a poison Khan was slowly killing himself with. Only two hands could pull him up now. Love…or the animalistic strength that comes from rage and destroys the soul.

She could see all the horror and terror building behind his eyes, like living pain behind flames. She wished he would open himself to her, give her a chance to show him what strength and courage love could give…but he trusted in himself as he always had, not even realizing how damaged and destroyed he already was by broken dreams and self-hate and despair. She wished he would, just for a moment, trust her not to destroy his heart if he exposed it, instead to grace it with all the support and love she could. She wished he would let her carry some of his horrible burden.

She wished he would just cry.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Author's Note: Second to last chapter! Thank you, again! You are the reason I keep posting chapters up...because you seem to enjoy this and nothing pleases a writer more than when her scribblings are enjoyed. Bless you. :) **gathers my two readers in a huge virtual hug**_**

* * *

"A terrible fever…he will not survive the week, your Excellency. And I, for one, will not go near him again. Anyone who touches him or even breathes his air will share the same fate." M'dara dusted her hands off carefully as she exited the cargo bay.

Khan closed his eyes for a split second before glancing over her shoulder into the dim interior, "do you have any idea what has caused it?"

M'dara shrugged mournfully, her dusky eyes heavy from lack of sleep, her once lustrous black hair dry and dusty with sand. "That other lichen, the yellow one from the deeper caverns…perhaps it is not as edible as we first thought. I would not risk it anymore."

Khan acknowledged her words with a single nod. "I see. I will ban it from our supplies."

"It would also be wise to exterminate the plant…the children's appetites are not so easily controllable."

"Of course," Khan stepped by her suddenly, grabbed the door and swung it shut with an echoing clang. There was a weak cry from inside.

In the camp, a woman who had been sitting in a despondent heap by the rubbish pit heard the noise. Her head flew up, her grey eyes widened. With a cry, she pelted towards them, sand spraying as her superhuman body ran as if she had never been hungry in her life.

Khan turned to meet her. "Fatima…"

"No!" Her clear, piercing voice cut him off, "you cannot! He is deathly ill…he needs me!"

"You need…" Khan paused, as if trying to find the right words, "to control yourself."

Other Augments began gathering around the commotion, some bringing their work with them. Out of the corner of his eye, Khan watched them approach with a sinking feeling of dread. He looked back at Fatima. "Isham was a valued friend and a good worker and a proud warrior. I was honored…"

"Do not speak of it!" Fatima cried, stepping forward with blind courage and fury, her hands clenched, "I do not care how in the seven hells you feel!" She spat in the sand.

Khan's mouth tightened. "This is beyond my power. The very air he breathes is poisonous…would you prefer I move him out into the desert to die, infecting more of our people?"

"You cannot…"

"I can and I will!" Khan roared back, "You swore to obey me, and I in turn swore to lead you all to the best of my ability." He was speaking now to the crowd as well as Fatima, "I will not allow one tragedy to doom us all…not for the sake of one man would I condemn the rest of us!"

Fatima recognized the hardness in his tone…the inexorable, unmerciful Khan. Her grey eyes narrowed with hatred and desperation. Her voice dropped low, almost afraid of what she said next, "you did for one woman."

Utter silence.

Marla heard, from behind two tall men who wouldn't let her through. She felt dread creep up her spine like a sickly spider. Anxious, she prayed that whatever was about to happen next didn't result in death.

Khan looked down at Fatima with eyes of stone. His brown irises caught beams of sunlight and lit up with fire. His arms, which had been crossed, went down to his sides, loose, but ready to leap into action and do something terrible and unstoppable. He stared down into Fatima's grey eyes. "Say that again."

Fatima met his gaze. For a moment, it looked like she would do it.

Then, she trembled. Her head dropped, her face hidden by sleek black hair. "My death does him no service," she said slowly, thoughtfully. She looked up again, but all the fight had gone out of her body as she realized that, short of being killed, she had only once chance of helping her loved one. "Let me…let me go to him."

Khan's face flushed under the dark tan. This woman had threatened Marla. She had come so close to death that he could hear the ghosts wailing on the hills, calling her name. He wanted her to join them. He wanted to kill her.

But her words reawakened a memory.

_"It is weakness."_

_It is not weakness…it is strength."_

"Khan," his head shot up at the sound of her voice. Marla struggled through to the front of the crowd, her red hair flowing around her shoulders, her blue eyes bright and strong. And for a fleeting instant, Khan was relieved, as if he actually _needed_ her presence at this moment, needed her strength. Marla stood apart from the Augments, who stared at her distrustfully, angrily. But she only had eyes for Khan. "She loves him…I think you should let her go."

Khan's hands clenched into fists as he looked back at Fatima, who was staring at her unexpected ally as if Marla was an apparition from heaven. _This is not what I would do, _his mind screamed, _why waste two lives for one!? It is so __**useless**__!_

"For love of another."

_What would I want if Marla was in there?_

"There is no better way to die."

Marla's words seemed to pierce his heart and softly touch something there, something that quivered under the recognition of a truth older than the world he stood upon.

He stepped aside. He reached out and grabbed the door latch with his brown hand, scarred and hardened by life in the desert. He stared at Marla, somehow feeling that if he looked away even once, his resolve would come crashing down. "You may go to him."

Fatima looked at him, disbelief shining in her wet eyes. Not gratitude, but shock; she had never expected Khan to relent. An audible sigh rustled through the crowd; the normally stoic Augments were speaking to each other, unable to hold in the explosion of inspiration that had struck them.

Khan swung the door open, exposing the darkness. Fatima looked inside, her eyes wide.

"There is food and water enough for a week or so…you may go in there to nurse him…"

Inside, Isham could be heard weakly protesting. Fatima stepped up to the threshold.

"…and you may never come out."

She turned her head sharply, staring right up into Khan's face. Khan met her gaze, emotionless and unblinking, his eyes dark. Then, Fatima's shoulders straightened. With the deliberate stride of martyrdom, she made her choice and stepped inside.

The door closed, swallowing up the entrance with a loud, echoing clang.

* * *

"Let me out!" the door shuddered under the force of the blows as Fatima threw herself bodily against it, her voice laced with panic and pain. "Isham is dead…he is rotting! You cannot keep me in here!"

They told Khan about it. He reaffirmed his decree; she would not be released.

"Khan! Khan! Remember me…I beg you, let me out! I cannot stand to see his face anymore! It is empty and so cold…oh gods, Isham, Isham!" She burst into sobs that floated through the air and brought a pain into Marla's chest. She pitied the poor woman. No one should be locked up for days with the dead body of their husband.

"Khan…" Marla plucked up her courage as they sat around the fire, "we could just back away and let her…"

"I warned her." Khan glared into the fire, his back straight as a ramrod, his eyes hidden in shadow as the other Augments shifted uncomfortably, "She knew exactly what would happen, and yet she still accepted."

The sobs increased into frantic screams that echoed relentlessly through the camp. Marla couldn't bear it. She got up on her knees and stared at the side of Khan's face. "Khan, we have to! We can't…"

"Quiet, woman!" Khan snarled, his black hair whipping his face as he glared at her. Startled, Marla flinched. He had not called her 'woman' in a long time. But she couldn't just _listen_ to that…

"Sariah! Sariah!"

The minute Fatima called out the name, a pensive little girl who had been crying silently suddenly jumped up. "Mother! Mother!"

Khan looked at her and paled, visibly.

The child raced away from the group towards the fatal cargo bay. Khan instantly knew where she was going and reared up like a predator, giving chase. With his long legs, he quickly caught up with her in time to slam the flat of his hand against the door that Sariah was already fumbling at with her tiny hands.

Marla came rushing up, panting, her heart in her mouth. Terrified for the little girl. Again, like a silent jury of specters, the Augments followed.

"No!" Khan caught Sariah's arm in a painful grip and pushed her back, "I forbid it! If you let your mother out you will kill the rest of us!"

"I don't care!" Sariah screamed with the simple-minded terror of children that can neither be reasoned with nor calmed. She stamped her foot into the sand, tears streaming from her eyes as she realized the child-eater she was shouting at could either kill her or her mother at any time. "I want my mother and father! I want them!"

The crowd had turned sullen, hostile. Their sympathy was clearly with the little girl and not with Khan, who had been acting strangely the last few weeks and, besides that, was the one who forced them to work and eat and live on.

But that was alright. Because Khan was not afraid of them.

_I've never been afraid._

That had been true when he'd said it…he had never feared another man, danger, or hardship. Not even Marla, although she came absurdly close to it. However, in the midst of all this death and spiritual decay, he realized he was and always had been afraid…of himself.

Was it the right thing to fight so hard for survival? Was it worth all the pain and hatred and ingratitude? Wouldn't it be better just to let the sickness take them all, now, at once? After all, they seemed to want it so badly, seemed to hate him for making them claw their existence back from the jaws of death every waking hour.

Although he would not admit it in words, it was hard to rule and not be loved. Hard to deny himself and sacrifice that love for the sake of those who hated him, who always had, even before the Exile from Earth. Long ago, he had explained to Marla how none of the Augments really loved…it seemed that without constant excitement and action, struggle and reward, they were unable to live either. Once before, he could rule these stubborn, heartless people and shrug it off as a game of war and chance. Now, without that shield, it hurt.

_I feel…weak._ The idea shocked him as he glanced from Sariah's red, crying face with her accusing brown eyes, to the blank, hostile faces that surrounded him like a merciless wall. _I, Khan Noonien Singh, greatest of the Augments…I feel weak and tired and so, so alone. I feel as if I will totter and fall like an old man, before my time. I feel as if I must either break their necks and harden my heart or keep on suffering their insults, leave myself vulnerable…and die._

_But I __**will**__ keep them alive. And they will hate me for it. But, after all, do I deserve any less?_

"Your father is dead, and your mother soon will be," he replied finally. Which was the completely wrong thing to say.

"JUST BECAUSE YOU DON'T LOVE _ANYONE _DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T! GIVE ME MY MOTHER, PLEASE, PLEASE, _**PLEASE**_!" The hysterical child lunged forward, her nails digging into Khan's hands as she scrambled for the door.

Another man stepped forward, then another. And by the looks in their faces, Khan was certain they were not coming to assist _him_.

And then, Khan did something he had never done before in the long, bloody, battle-strewn years of his life.

He panicked.

He grabbed Sariah and flung her away. But he used his full, entire, terrible strength.

The little body flew through the air like a rag doll, and Khan's heart slammed up into his throat as he watched her. She hit the first man who had stepped forward and they were both bowled over…but she hit him head first, and there was a loud snap.

Marla and even a few of the Augment women screamed in horror. The man sat up and quickly, frantically turned Sariah over. Khan rushed forward and shoved him out of the way, kneeling down to touch his hand to her small, white throat.

There was no pulse. Her neck was broken.

She was dead.

There was a ripple through the crowd. Khan looked up at them all, and saw how wide, how accusing their eyes were. He looked at Marla. Her mouth was parted. She stepped away from him. _Away_ from him.

"Sariah?" Fatima's voice trembled tiredly into the air, laced with panic at the ensuing silence, "Oh gods…Khan…you demon's offspring! Son of Shetan! I will kill you…let me out, face me! I WILL _**KILL**_ YOU!"

Sanity began slipping out from underneath him like a sheet of water, leaving him to fall into a black, roaring pit…a pit full of the dead, all reaching up for vengeance, all screaming his name, because he had let them fall in there. Quickly, desperately, he clawed at the only support he had left.

He stood, knees cracking as he locked them with swift, ruthless force. The pain felt good. He turned to the crowd, his voice never wavering, as if another man from another time was speaking…and perhaps it was. It was Khan of the days before the Exile, the man who ordered entire battalions executed for desertion. This man could stand strong before the hate of others, unlike the man he had so recently tried to become.

"Bury her."

Marla shook her head silently, eyes riveted to his…she couldn't believe it. He had just killed a little girl…and that was all he could say?! _Bury her_?! There was no guilt, no shadow in his face. This was not the man who had saved her in the caves, or tickled Joachim, or gave food to a starving little girl, or carried her wounded through the desert. This was the beast she had married.

"And anyone," Khan turned, and his eyes were burning so fiercely that some of the Augments looked away; burning, almost _begging_ someone to come forward and challenge him so he could utterly _destroy_ them, "who opens that door without my permission…I will kill just as easily."

Then, he walked away. They watched him; straight, tall, erect…they watched him enter his cargo bay. No one even noticed the small, red haired woman who struggled after him, running with urgent speed, her voice already rising in volume…they only saw a man who could kill a child and not care, who would kill any or all of them and care even less.

* * *

Marla was right behind him; she was furious, at the end of her tether. He could hear it in every syllable she shrieked at him, every lingering vibration from the door as she slammed it shut. She was always finding fault, always trying to change him. He was Khan Noonien Singh, not some lump of clay she could mold any way she wanted with her clever, merciless fingers! Not some quivering reed she could blow into submission. She never left him alone, always questioned, always irritated and squawked and nagged…and he had had enough.

He turned as she came up to him and, with a suddenly freed fury that pounded daringly in his veins, he bodily lifted her by her upper arms and, in a terrifyingly swift motion, stepped forward and slammed her against the wall.

Marla gave a gasp of shock and pain as she dangled an entire foot off the ground, her thin back thumping against the hard, metal surface of the cargo bay. She stared in sudden and very real fear at a face she no longer recognized…Khan's brown eyes had gone wild, burning with a fire that was very much like what she had seen in Nyguk's eyes. His eyebrows drawn down in anger, he grit his teeth and shook her. Her legs kicked impulsively as she pushed against him in a panic, trying to twist out of his grip. She had no time for any other reaction before Khan began to shout into her face.

"You think I want this?!" He was shaking her now as if she was a doll, his voice harsh and raw, "You think I don't care?! If I let them in, we will all die! They do not understand…_you_ do not understand! It is not about them, or you, or me! It is all the other mothers, fathers, and children. You…you cried and whined, begging that they be allowed to go in to their deaths! This is the result! I have no more say in the matter! I wash my hands of this evil that I did not wish for! It is not my choice! Not my choice…"

He stopped suddenly and sagged as if he had run out of energy, leaning against the wall as much as holding Marla up against it. He was panting, his hair in disarray, framing the burning, tortured eyes in that wild, flushed face. He stared at her, panting, waiting for her to say _something _as she always had, to give him more challenge, more to rail against, just give him a reason to _fight_. He wanted her to reject him now, to give up on him so that he would have an excuse not to keep up this silly charade of trying to love in a world of hate. He was done with trying. He was done with the Augments. He was done with _everything_.

Instead, Marla's eyes widened in wonder and disbelief, her face turning pale with shock. Half suspended against the wall, she slowly, oh so slowly, reached out with a thin hand and gently touched his left cheek. It twitched under the sudden touch, dragging the skin under her soft, curious fingertips.

Something of sudden revelation and even _awe_ transfixed her face. "You're crying."

The words were terrible. His hands snapped open and she fell to the floor with a thud as her legs tangled with his. He stepped back and turned around far, far too quickly, unconsciously trying to shield himself from her gaze as he realized what the awful pain in his eyes, his head, his chest was. He blinked, trying to get rid of the tears through sheer willpower. "_Lies_…repulsive _**falsehoods**_…you do not know what you are saying…"

"I…I'm sorry…" Marla quickly hauled herself to a stand, her words tumbling out. "I know…I know you're only doing what you have to do…"

Khan's fists clenched as her voice came nearer. _Shut up. Shut up. __**Please**__ shut up. _"I do what is necessary…" _Don't break me…I can't…_ "I don't want…" his voice failed him. His voice never failed him. And when he tried to force it out again, to his horror, it broke. And his cheeks were wet. "I didn't mean…Sariah…"

"I know."

_She is not fighting me. _A terrible weakness sliced through his knees mercilessly, and he fell onto them with a heavy thump, his hands landing like talons onto the bed. His fingers clenched as a chasm opened up inside his soul and a screaming storm of emotions rose from within, and he fought with panicked desperation to hold it down. His head and back seemed to be crushed down by the heavy hands of all the worlds, all the lives, all the disappointments that ever were. His fingers ripped through the sheet as he gasped, fighting against the sudden, suffocating agony as all the tears he had ever hidden in his soul suddenly came to life and pushed with terrifying force to be let free. His body shuddered, and he was suddenly terrified of his own strength now that he was no longer master of it.

She was not afraid. She was beside him, her arm over his back with all the firmness of someone trying to force life and hope into another. Her hand stroked through his thick black hair, shot with abnormal white and grey. She bent her head next to his and whispered, to him and to God, over and over. _I love you. It's alright. Don't worry. We'll be fine._

"I am strong…"

"I know."

"I didn't mean to say you weren't…"

"I know."

His voice was thick and choked and he _cried _to her and to the world, _(he had hurt her and wanted her to hate him why didn't she)_ as he lost control and just_ didn't understand anything anymore_. "What…what is this?"

"This…" Marla pressed a slow, strong kiss to his head, her eyes closed, willing her own spirit into his, _willing_ him to find the safety and the contentment she offered him, "is love."

* * *

They spoke words that night, words no one, not the Augments, not their friends, not even their son, would ever hear. They opened their souls to each other and, with his shields broken, Khan was able to trust and tell her and share his burdens with her in a way he had never felt before. Something in their marriage, in their promise to each other was cleansed and renewed and filled with a wonderful power. In being broken, Khan realized, he had found strength. It was a seeming contradiction that, like so much of Marla's strange philosophy, didn't make sense but once you experienced it, you realized there was no other or better way.

The next morning they woke up together, face to face, lying on the bed. Marla blinked, surprised to find her own eyes sticky with old tears. As she reached up to wipe them, she realized her hand was imprisoned by another. Khan held it. His eyes opened and he looked at her.

They were clear and bright, washed by sorrow and an acceptance of that sorrow. She wasn't sure what he would do…what he would say.

He scooted sideways towards her and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, his arms moving to hug her tightly to him as if she was a great, a precious gift.

Marla relished the moment, her own hands moving up to grab at his shoulders, relieved to feel her husband once more strong and whole in her arms, not the depressed, heart breaking wreck of the night before. She wasn't even quite sure it wasn't all just a dream. "You know," she said finally, trying to say something cheerful and at the same time encouraging, "I could've told you you don't have to bear everything alone. You _do_ have a wife."

"It is you," Khan responded, still holding her tight, "all you. You keep this heart from freezing over and turning black and dead. I have never cried before in my entire life, but you brought it out of me. And with the tears, I felt the ice begin to melt away."

She pulled away so she could look into his eyes. Reluctantly, he let her. But his face was earnest and almost glowing, as if he had been through so much sorrow that he was finally ready to hold true joy. "Something…something has to give way, Marla…my pride or my mind. I need both. But you have taught me another strength, one I do not understand, do not even want…except when I look at you." A smile began to stretch across his face.

It was so good to see him smile again. Marla felt a physical pain in her eyes and she blinked as her vision blurred with happy tears. She smiled back, grabbing Khan's hand again and pulling it up to her cheek as he continued speaking, his eyes drinking in her face thoughtfully, almost amusedly, "You have overwhelmed me with your sheer emotion…you have shouted my thoughts into silence, stood firm against my rage…I have never been defeated before by anyone but you."

Suddenly, the old, flirtatious sparkle lit up his dark eyes beneath their heavy lashes, and he slipped a hand around her waist. "No one told me I had reached forward my hand and taken the eagle instead of the dove."

She smiled back, the old, cute smile that would tug ever so gently at the corner of her lips. "Well, I hope you're not calling _me_ bald. My hair may be thinner and ragged…" she dragged a lock out with her fingers coquettishly, "but it's still red."

So was the flush in her cheeks, and her parted lips. The sparkle in her blue eyes, veined with glowing green and ringed with gold, like the glowing sky of a distant world. Khan brushed her face with his thumb, feeling a warm swell of gratitude in his chest, gratitude for Marla and everything that made her who she was. The savior of his sanity, the refuge of his sorrows, the love of his life. She could look at his weakness and still trust him. She could see his faults and still forgive him. She could endure his rages…and still love him.

Lying on their sides without a care in the world, they gave each other a long, passionate kiss.

* * *

"The others…they hate you, father," Joachim pulled nervously at his headband, and then moved to help his father with the basket of salt. He was finally reaching his tenth year, awkward and tall, with his face showing the fine headshape of his father, a long countenance with a strong chin. It was practically the only visible trait he had inherited from Khan.

"I know," Khan said grimly, letting Joachim carry most of the weight, since that seemed to please his 'manly' pride.

"Because you…" Joachim swallowed, hesitating, "you killed Sariah."

Khan closed his eyes for a second, but kept walking. "Joachim," he said finally, tiredly, "you know I did not mean to."

"Was it the demon, father? The temper?"

"Yes. But it only had power over me because I said yes to it. Never say yes to it, Joachim."

Joachim digested this in silence. Then, after a few more minutes, he piped up, "the others say Mother is a…weakling."

The basket fell with a heavy thump into the sand. Half afraid, Joachim turned to look up at his father. Khan wasn't looking at him, but gazing out sternly over the camp, as if wishing someone would come out so he make them eat their words…_show_ them how wrong they were. "She is strong, Joachim. Strong like the grass blade that the wind pushes down, always rising again. Strong like the sunshine, that can be blocked off, but is always there, warm and light giving, always shining forth once more"

Suddenly, impulsively, he swept Joachim up and positioned the boy on his shoulders. Joachim couldn't hide his grin of pleasure at this sudden, unwarranted attention. Khan, however, pressed strong, protective hands to his son's sides, holding him steady as he spoke carefully and clearly, wishing to impress them on Joachim's mind forever.

"She is the heart, Joachim, the heart that keeps beating and beating, always loving, loving forever. It is her kind, in the end, that make great warriors. It is her kind, I believe, that will prevail at the last."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: At last, we come to the end of our journey. To you few who not only stuck with this little project but were also kind enough to comment on almost every chapter, to you I say, if you loved this piece, then consider it a gift. Because you were the people I thought of every time I updated. You kept me going. I hope you enjoyed my take on the spiritual evolution of Khan Noonien Singh. After all, he would never have been motivated to avenge Marla unless he really, truly loved her, and that could never happen unless she became a woman far stronger and brilliant than that shown in the TOS episode. So, a thousand thank yous and well wishes and may you live long and prosper! :hug**_

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" Marla glanced over her shoulder at Khan as she busily scraped minerals off the surface of a boulder using a jagged shard of metal.

From where he was breaking rocks with a sledgehammer to free more mineral deposits, Khan gave her a look that clearly said, _you are taking liberties again_. He pulled his heavy sandrobe sleeves down his arms to shield them as he turned around and told her anyway, "Even if a ship passes by this planet, we have no radio to hail them. We have no probes, no flares, no signals…" his face darkened. "We can do nothing, _nothing_ to push the odds in our favor. Captain _Kirk_…" his words flooded with such sudden hatred that Marla turned around to have a good look at him, "has obviously told no one that we even exist."

"He couldn't," she responded reasonably, "you're not allowed to exist. The Federation would destroy every single one of you."

"And _this_," he spread his arms out wide, exasperated, "is any different?! At least it would be quick and clean! I would not have to _watch_ as everyone…" he trailed off.

Marla looked at him. "It is hard. It isn't fair. Life isn't. But remember," she added warningly, "no one's doing this to us. This is chance, fate, the Universe…whatever you want to call it. Not Kirk's fault, not mine, and definitely not _yours_."

Khan seemed to let her words float harmlessly by him. "I think that I might have gone mad in the past…" he saw her look of horror and quickly amended his statement, "once or twice. That I might have gone insane, hating Kirk…he is the only scapegoat I can find, Marla…he is the demon who haunts my nightmares."

Marla slung the basket over her arm and came to sit beside him on the large rocks that jutted up from the sand like giant's teeth. Khan barely acknowledged her as he fingered the sledgehammer like a weapon. "When I think that he woke us up and returned us to life…only to condemn us to this death. So much death. I fear I would revenge myself upon him…"

"Khan!" she interrupted him impulsively, "not that! Please…"

He saw the worry in her eyes and quickly buried the thoughts, determined not to give her cause for anxiety over something that would never happen anyway. "Do not worry, my dove," he smiled, squeezing her knee briefly, "My reign on Earth taught me how expendable life is. This planet taught me how fragile it is…but it was you who taught me how _precious_ it is."

He dropped the hammer in the sand and took her basket away, watching her hands with an almost dreamy look. "You only know me as a barbaric chieftain, Marla. You never saw me as a king. You could have been with me, as my queen. No one could deny you; you would have had a palace in the deep, green valleys of India that are ever moist, with tigers in golden collars to guard your chambers. And all would speak in wonder of my queen. My queen with sapphire eyes and hair like red fire," he smiled fondly at her, then saw that she was barely listening. Irritated, he asked, "you find no pleasure in these thoughts?"

Marla shrugged reluctantly, trying to peaceably make amends. "It's a lovely idea, Khan…but these thoughts on what could have been are _not_ good for you. Why fire up longings for the impossible? You make what might be endurable here seem positively unbearable."

Khan blinked. He had never thought about it that way. As everything around him grew worse and worse, he found it only natural to look back on what seemed to be such a better time.

"You know," Marla easily changed the subject, allowing Khan to think about what she had said later, on his own time, "the Eugenics Program's first test subjects were either purchased or donated by their families…I know all about it. But a question that's always bugged me…do you remember them at all? Or anything of your childhood, for that matter?"

"No." His answer was short and concise, without emotion. "My memory was wiped very early, before I had reached ten years under the Eugenic Program's tutelage."

"Why?"

He stated it matter of factly; he really didn't care. How could he miss what he had never known? "It was done so I would not be hampered by ties of duty, tradition, affection …love."

"And now…how do you find these ties…of love?"

He looked at her then, half smiling, "now…I realize, I understand why they tried to sever them. But the ties of love are infinitely powerful and infinitely strong…" He suddenly realized what he had been missing for so many of those early years…how Joachim and Marla would never even have come to be in his life if he had continued in his old existence as dictator of Earth.

Why could he not rule the Universe with a family by his side? Why had the natural right to fatherhood been denied him for so long, because of the genetic meddling of some doddering old scientists who selected him as their tool and decided they had the right to castrate his heart and ruin its natural course, giving him love of the body only, not love of the spirit…

Marla leaned into him, reminding him that he was in the middle of saying something endearing to her. Unfortunately, it changed abruptly into a rude tirade. "There was no time to be a boy. I was never a boy. I was only a man. A man with the world at his feet, a prince of thousands." _Prince of thousands._ Mockingly echoed at him. He kicked at the ground, his boot sending a shower of sand up, "now I've got _this_!"

Suddenly, sharply ashamed of his loss of temper, he turned to look at Marla. Her face twisted with sympathy as she grabbed his face. "And this," she said suddenly, kissing him.

Yes, he had her. Marla. The one woman who had been able to surprise him. Beautiful, small, but strong. One hand crawls through her red hair as he pulled away briefly to say, "I suppose I can be content with that. You make this planet bearable."

Marla breathed out slowly, her blue eyes shining. "If…if you were still king of Earth, you would not be stuck here on this god forsaken planet…you wouldn't have married me." She looked at him suddenly, and there was real doubt in her face, "Am I worth it?"

Khan was surprised, stupefied even, by his own answer.

"Yes." He kissed her again.

Because she was. She was worth everything. He couldn't even imagine his life without her anymore. She was worth every bit of pain she had made him go through, every moment of doubt, ever loss of temper…she was worth it.

The wind suddenly kicked up, puffing their long, wild hair around each other's faces. Marla laughed and stood up. "The sun's setting and a storm's coming. We need to go back."

Khan grinned and stood beside her, "shall I carry you?"

Marla snorted, shoving him in the chest although Khan barely felt it, "I've had _quite_ enough of that kind of treatment, thanks!"

He chuckled. "Who said I was asking, beloved?" and he lunged at her with a playful growl.

Marla shrieked, her cheeks red with exuberance as she avoided his strong arms that could easily have picked her up and tossed her like a suitcase, arms she always felt so absurdly safe in. She scrambled onto the big rock and lunged over it. Her boot, however, caught on the edge and she fell over the side into the ditch beyond with an exaggerated _oof_.

Still grinning, Khan was already on top, ready to leap over and follow her, when a shrill scream startled him and instantly froze the blood in his heart.

Marla was writhing on the ground, hands clawing at herself as tiny, soft grey bodies slithered over her skin. Pure terror and panic stamped its mark on her pale face. "They're all over me!"

The eels. Khan was over the rocks and down beside her in less time than it took to blink, nearly stumbling in the shifting sand. He yanked her to her feet, ripping off the eels, ignoring the red, v-shaped tears their teeth left in his skin as he flung them down. "Cover your ears, cover your ears!" He snarled at her in what he realized was his own terror.

He saw a blur of dark, shiny wetness by Marla's ear and lunged for it. All his frantic fingers felt was the sticky trail it left; it silently slipped right inside.

Her eyes snapped wide and she went stiff and rigid in his arms, her head thrown back as she screamed in acute agony, nearly deafening him as her hands grabbed without thought at his shirt. But he didn't care. Without waiting for her to even finish, he scooped her up into his arms and ran towards the camp, his heart pounding.

And he could hear the ghosts, the ghosts Marla didn't believe in, wailing in the darkness, naked in the wind, floating on the empty sand dunes. He could hear them calling her name.

* * *

She felt like cold air was whistling in through a hole in her left ear, wrapping its chilly hands around her brain, sadistically tightening as red hot throbs of pain slowly fluttered up her skull. She cracked her eyes open…everything was so blurry. It was all so hot…had Khan forgotten to open the door that evening again?

_Oh my God…wait…the eels…_the memory of the tiny, sticky, things sucking at her skin as they persistently crept all over her, the scabby adults who bit into her arms and legs and neck, the one invasive, cold finger that wriggled into her ear where she could do nothing to stop it…

In her ear.

"Khan!" She screamed for him, trying to reach out and find him only to be brought short by what she realized were fever ropes, to keep her from flailing about. A dark face materialized above her and Marla recognized M'dara, the doctor.

"M'dara…the eels…I'm going to die, aren't I!" She realized she sounded hysterical but didn't really care.

M'dara bit her lip, unwilling to answer. Suddenly, Khan appeared, pushing her aside as he pressed a hand to Marla's sweaty forehead. "No, you are not."

"Khan, I have an eel lodged in my brain and I'm going to die…I'm going to die!"

"No! You. Are. _Not_!" His hand trembled where it touched her, as if he was resisting the urge to grab and shake some sense into her. "We are going to find a cure…"

Marla swallowed saliva, wincing as even the slightest movement from her jaw seemed to reawaken the little horror in her cerebral cortex, and the sharp, stabbing pain became a reality…like a migraine, only one that would never go away. "You can't…you can't tear it out, can't pour anything into my brain...I'm going to die, Khan…'

"NO!" His hands withdrew abruptly, as if he was afraid of losing his temper.

Marla reached for him; she didn't want to argue anymore, not in what would be her last moments. She wanted him to stay with her, to hold her hand and love her and tell her it was alright. Because she was afraid. She didn't want to die. "Please, don't, Khan…it'll only hurt worse…please, just this once, bend to fate…tell me goodbye."

"I cannot and I will not," he felt a strange calm invade him as he leaned over her, "I _will not_ lose you."

_He pulled her into his arms and stood, feeling how strangely light, almost ethereal, she felt. "Stay with me," he whispered in her ear, still pressing hard to the wound, as if he held her life in his hands._

_He began moving, began running across the desert sand…he would get her back in time. He could not lose her. He would not lose her._

Marla began to sob, helplessly, miserably. She just couldn't help it. She was going to die and leave them…leave Joachim and Khan all alone on this miserable planet. All alone. _Head hurts…my baby…Khan…please no…(Khan) let me go…(dear God) let me stay…_

Saddened by her grief but refusing to allow himself to surrender to it, Khan bent over and gently kissed her forehead. He paused, his face inches from hers as he whispered, "I will save you, Marla…do not fear. You will live…you will live." His eyes burned with desperation and love, begging her to understand and agree with him, "you will see it."

* * *

She cried for Joachim. Khan only allowed him in once, when Marla seemed to be feeling better. She kissed him and tried not to cry…but wasn't very successful. Khan left him in the care of Patricia, who had two young ones of her own.

Together with an increasingly unwilling M'dara, they tried so many remedies, so many strange, painful, desperate treatments…but as expected, nothing worked. Marla only wished Khan would leave her in peace, would stop building up his frantic pile of hope…would just appreciate the little time they had left together.

Every day, she felt more and more of herself slipping away.

Fevered dreams, distorted memories, waking up with her throat raw from screaming…and always the pain, the sickly throbbing in her head, so bad that sometimes her body would move by itself in a frantic, joint snapping fit, desperate to get rid of the creature lodged in her brain as it sweetly and contentedly sucked away her sanity.

Her sight got worse and worse, regressing like an old woman's. Things became blurry…she started having panic attacks, started losing entire weeks of memories. She couldn't see faces unless they bent in close. They couldn't untie her even as she retched and twisted, her face burning, her eyes burning, her mind churning in her skull until she wished and prayed someone would just scoop it out and end it all.

Khan's voice still came to her ears, but dimly. And she saw his face, but only the agony, burning bright and clear in his deep-set eyes, was clear to her. Her judgment was twisted out of shape as she cried out terrible things she had never meant to say, accusations and insults and a growing madness that left her helpless and terrified in her own mind, as her sense of self, overthrown and exiled, floated around her world and watched it fall to pieces.

And on top of the pain, there was a cold rock of terror sitting in the bottom of her stomach. Terrified for Khan, and what would become of him. He would not let her go…and when she died, as she knew she would, then there would be no one to act as his conscience, no one to help him slowly grow his own. No one to walk with him, listen to him, support him, raise his child, grow old with him…

_If I'd only had more time_, she thought idly as Khan's strong but unnoticed arm wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her to eat, ignoring what she accidentally spat or spilled on his shirt, _only had more time…I can see a world, a future where we grew old together, where he mellowed and I grew quieter and we clung together like two old trees…and we could have died together, happy, at peace, content…so happy…but now we will die alone, torn, Joachy…my baby…Khan…alone… _

_**Khan**__…_

Soon after that, the world stopped making sense.

* * *

Finally, when it became undeniably certain that Marla would die, Khan drove M'dara out, almost becoming violent. When she had retreated he barred the door solidly, ignoring the curious, outraged questions coming from outside.

Then he quickly crossed over to the bed and knelt there. He touched her hair gingerly, watching the vibrant red strands pull across his fingers as she tossed and moaned in delirium. Watched her tightly shut eyes as tears ran out of their corners and mingled with the drops of perspiration that already beaded her pale face.

He spent the last days whispering to her, as she always had to him, _I love you. It's alright. Don't worry. We'll be fine._

Although every word was a lie and she couldn't even hear him. He undid the ropes that bound her wrists so tightly and hugged her to himself, ignoring the red, bleeding furrows her flailing nails tore through his skin as she screamed and fought him, clawing at his face…only to collapse into a sobbing, muttering mess for hours.

And his heart felt like it was bleeding, _dying_ with her.

He had thought she could not possible feel any more pain than that…he was wrong.

It was at least two days later, in the late hours of the night, when Marla suddenly constricted in his arms, seizing him as her entire body seemed to be transfigured by a burst of life. She threw her head back and screamed, louder than he had ever heard her before, raw with agony and terror and sheer insanity.

Then, the thing slipped out of her ear and fell with a plop to the floor in a puddle of blood, writhing and chattering.

Khan attacked it with his bare hands, smashing it into the ground until the floor cracked and the gooey remains covered his hands. Then, he looked up at Marla.

She lay, half on the bed, her head sideways. She looked at him...and her eyes were clear, full of recognition, relief, blessing. They were blue, they were beautiful and so, so _alive_…

And then, with a shuddering sigh, they closed.

Khan moved forward on his knees, pressing his chest against her side as he gently felt her neck for a pulse. Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

The emerging whisper, once released, set off a thousand ripples in his mind, all of them hissing and laughing that final word.

_Nothing._

_**Wait…didn't get to tell you…**_

_Nothing._

_**I promised you...**_

_Nothing._

**_Marla…_**

_NOTHING._

Khan reared up, away from her, staring at her body as if it was an assassin or a malformed monster that had crawled into his bedroom. He stepped back and felt a bookcase press against his back.

Instantly, he turned around, seized it and flung it across the room to go crashing into the opposite wall. Books and papers fluttered down. His arms…they were shaking, so badly that he couldn't…he slammed them together and tried to calm them, calling on his muscles to serve him as perfectly as they always had…it didn't work. Nothing worked.

_Nothing._

He demolished the room; denting the walls of the cargo bay as he threw furniture into them and destroyed everything he could get his hands on. Everything but the Bed and the Woman who lay upon it.

Surrounded by chaos and crashing and destruction, he was waiting. Waiting for a persistently irritating voice to cry out for him to stop, for weak hands to grab his shoulders or shove him lightly or even slap him…it didn't come. Nothing came.

_Nothing._

Finally, he felt himself falling, falling to the ground among the shards and splinters of wood and metal. He didn't even feel it puncture his skin as he slammed into the ground, panting, exhausted…his hands were bleeding, sliced to the bone by metals no human being should be snapping with their bare hands. He lay there, paralyzed, staring at Marla's corpse.

Then, his eyes drifted down to the cover of a book, mostly preserved, that lay right before his face. He saw the title through a blur.

_"Paradise Lost"_

_Paradise is lost…Marla is lost…Satan falls…I fall. He rules in Hell. I reign here. What is left?_

_Nothing._

_Nothing, but one thing._

_**Vengeance.**_

Khan's wet eyes snapped open; he wasn't even aware that he'd been crying. Powerful yet shaky arms and legs gathered themselves under him and pushed him upright. He stared down at the book.

_"Those men went on to tame a continent, Mr. Khan. Can you tame a world?" Kirk's mouth pulled into an obvious smirk._

He looked up, up at the roof, beyond the roof, beyond the burnt, ruined sky…into the great expanse of space, the freedom of the stars and other worlds and a million planets where, for all he knew, Kirk was still flying, free.

_"Have you ever read Milton, Captain?"_

He looked at his gloved hand, watching it tremble. This…this death. So many dead…Marla had told him so often it was not his fault. But it had to be someone's fault. Someone with no excuse for what he did. Maybe it seemed a silly, unimportant thing now, when _she_ was gone, but a dying man will grab for the first rope he can, if he thinks it will show him a way to live on. That someone was Kirk. Kirk, who exiled and abandoned them, who dared to leave Marla on a world that would destroy her.

He turned to look at Marla, lying there with such a peaceful look on her face. Her beautiful face that would never look at him again…_never hear her voice_…_**Marla**_. A giant pain of regret and bereavement and confusion ripped its way through his heart and he stumbled. He almost fell back into the vale of agonized emotion he had lost himself in.

But no. He would not. Never again. Marla was not here, with her special strength and beauty and love. All he had left, all that could save him…was _(nothing)_ the old way.

The way of death, and hatred, and revenge.

* * *

The Augments crowded around Khan's cargo bay, suspicious, leaderless, festering with rumor and anger. They wanted to know what was happening, and they wanted to know now. Their anger grew as time went by, and the loud noises, the screaming, and then finally the roars, like a great beast speared through the heart, only increased their boldness.

Some realized that Khan had at last had it; his beloved little she-demon had died. They were fed up with this attitude…they had all lost friends and family, but none had taken it this hard. It was an inevitable part of life. What, did Khan think that somehow he would be spared?

Patricia wisely kept Joachim out of sight as the mutterings grew louder. Finally, when all noise within the cargo bay had died, a man named Aaron stepped forward and punched the door with his fist.

The sound of the blow reverberated through everyone, and they watched expectantly.

The door opened.

A hand shot forward and latched onto Aaron's face, tightening, digging into his cheekbones and forehead, lifting him from the ground as his body arched in pained surprise. Before he even had time to fight back, Khan stepped forward and threw him away from the doorway and into the crowd.

There was a collective gasp. Khan looked horrific. In the week or so that had passed, the white strands in his once thick black hair had multiplied, like thick streaks of pain that made him seem abnormally old. He was covered with blood and dust and splinters, his bare chest exposed under a torn shirt, sweating and silently swelling with every breath, like a rabid dog's. His eyes, also, looked like a rabid dog's. They weren't burning…they were electrified, wide open and fueled by a bitter, bitter pain as they darted wildly at them all, staring without seeing, yet seeing far too much. He strode straight into the crowd, trespassing on their personal space without fear, _daring_ them to protest.

Aaron struggled to a stand, wheezing, holding onto his jaw as if it was coming off. Khan walked right by him without looking. The Augments rippled away from him as he cut through them. And he started speaking…there was something alien, inhuman in his voice. It was heavy with pain, but it was utterly distant, as if it was a pain they could never experience or share or speak with him about. It was a pain that didn't concern them and would never concern them.

"Ah, my people…so you have come to gloat?" he almost smiled; but anyone with intelligence could see the beginnings of insanity in his eyes, when all barriers are broken and all ties are severed, when a man no longer cares about anything, not even himself. As he reached the edge of the crowd, he turned. The Augments, with their finely tuned senses, felt the intense aura that flowed from him like acid melting into their skin. It was disturbing; threatening…it was an aura of death. Death for anyone who touched him. "You have come to pick at my bones like vultures? Why are you here?"

"How is Mar…" a woman began to ask.

The brief flash of agony in his eyes came and went far too quickly for anyone to see it. Khan grabbed her around the throat, cutting off her air as he yanked her face forward, stopping short inches from his. "None of you are to speak her name again. You were not worthy to utter it when she was alive," the woman tried to punch him. He caught the fist and released her abruptly, "and none will speak it now that she is dead."

At this second unwarranted attack, the people muttered angrily, surging towards him. One of the bolder ones stepped forward, icy blue eyes narrowed angrily as he spat in Khan's direction. "She made you weak before…her death has made you mad."

Khan really smiled now; this was not reckless insanity, the kind that caused men like Nyguk to kill themselves. This was utter, chaotic disregard of morals, the rejection of life and disownment of his fellow man. It was deadly to all around him, and they could feel it. He stepped forward, his head angled ever so slightly as he stalked eagerly over to the speaker, unafraid of him or the entire crowd behind his back. "Say it now…" his voice was raw with pain but also eager, almost _hungry_, "or never look me in the face again."

The man stared back, slightly taken off guard by the bold, sudden challenge. But like all Augments, he rose to it magnificently; he took it. "She made you weak and ma…"

Khan lunged at him. The man barely avoided it, swinging around to land a good elbow slam into his back that would have winded another man. But Khan turned in his grip, seized his fist as it came down for a second blow and chopped upward at the elbow, breaking the arm.

The Augment went pale. He sagged for a split second as his system fought to cope with the sudden pain. That was all Khan needed. Within seconds, he had the man's neck nestled in his arm, his hand pressed to the side. One hard, sharp push, and it was over. He dropped the lifeless body in the sand. As the Augments started crying out in protest, he bellowed at them, fists raised, "Come at me! Come at me with any weapon, one of you, ten of you, all of you!"

And some did. They rushed him, and he fought. He killed as if he was the very Scythe of Death, slaughtering them as the madness flared higher and higher in his eyes until even the bravest drew back in terror before a man who had been utterly transformed and, in the process, become something even less human than an Augment. Marla had been able, through love, to fan that spark of nobility and honor into something far greater than what he had been before. But now, without her, he fell even farther. He took all the trust, all the obedience, all the reliance she had once held safe, and gave it to the Beast within, the animal lurking in the darkness of his soul. He fed the animal with hatred, with killing, and with vengeance.

He stood before them, panting, broken bodies littered around his feet. He had killed them all with his bare hands. He spoke, and as before, they hung on every word. But it was demented yet controlled, ranting yet powerful, "you thought I was weak, because I would not fight…because I loved an earth woman. She is no longer able to shield you from my wrath, so take care you do not anger me! Do not disobey me, do not question me, or I will purify you with blood!" he lifted up his gloved hand and clenched it in a fist, shaking with the pure rage that was coursing through his veins. "You swore to follow me once before…swear it again, before I send you down into the sand with these your treacherous brothers! Swear it!" he barked out the order, looking as if he would attack the crowd the very instant they disobeyed.

And they swore. They swore, then and there, to live and die at the command of Khan Noonien Singh, greatest of the Augments, ruler of Ceti Alpha V and the man who would lead them to death or vengeance, whichever came first. They swore out of terror, but it was sincere. For, in a world that had become a nightmare, a devil king hardly seemed out of place. His wanton slaughter had only made him stronger in their eyes, a rock of death in the ever-shifting sea of sand.

* * *

Marla was buried in a great tomb of carven rock, deep in the caverns below the desert. Khan could not bear to let her sink into the soft sand, to be dragged down into the nether darkness; he couldn't bear the thought of her spirit exiled to a tortured limbo between living and dying, shriveled and wailing across the desert forever; besides, he didn't want to think of what that spirit might say to him.

When he looked through her things for the last time before storing them safely in the burial chamber, he found her old Starfleet belt buckle. The leather belt had been taken long ago to repair something or other, but the buckle was mostly undamaged, save for the rim, where a chunk of metal had been broken off.

He welded some wires into a chain and hung the buckle around his neck. It was the only thing of hers that would never rot. It was a symbol of space, of that beautiful, cool expanse of stars that he would never see again…where he first found her.

Only Joachim was allowed to be at the burial with him, simply because he had the _right_ to be there. Khan lowered Marla into the tomb with his own arms, straightening her body. He hesitated, staring at her face. Then, slowly, he reached out and touched her red hair for the last time. The pain in his eyes started up again. He could give it no freedom and pulled his hand away, surprised at how difficult such a simple motion was.

Joachim cried; for once, Khan said nothing about it as the boy leaned over the coffin with difficulty and pressed a last kiss to Marla's cheek.

Khan bent over, and looked at her.

And looked.

_So beautiful…could you but wake up now, Marla, you would hate me…but do not hate me, beloved. I do this for you, for me, and for all our lost chances together._

He slowly, gently kissed her cold lips.

_You were everything…everything. You were worth every pain. I would go through it all all over again, if it would bring you back._

A single tear appeared on Marla's cheekbone and trickled down into the shadows under her head. Khan blinked angrily, realizing it was his.

_I will not cry…I would bring you back…but I will not cry. Only you had the right to see my tears. Only you._

Then, using only his brute force, he heaved the massive stone lid over her coffin with a terrible rumbling sound, hiding her forever from all the cruel tools of nature Ceti Alpha might extend towards her. Only gentle Time could reach her here, and it would do all that was necessary.

Khan pressed his forehead to the cold stone and took a deep, deep breath. When he exhaled, he felt as if all that was left in him, all that was sensitive, good, thoughtful…all the finer things in him that Marla had loved…was buried there with her. And he cared. He cared too much, as if Marla's chastisements were still reaching for him from the grave.

He would not be surprised.

After a silent, long moment, he stood abruptly and left, ignoring Joachim's silent sobs as the boy trailed after him, ignoring the memories that seemed to echo behind him in the cave until they faded into nothingness. And those whispered memories _hurt_ him and _tore at his heart _and _frightened_ him far more than the wailing of the ghosts on the desert. Because he would have given anything to hear them from her, just one last time.

_"And this is your reward, my dove."_

_Marla opened her eyes, cupping his chin in her palm. "I don't mind…I have enough."_

* * *

_But her eyes still sparkled, and her smile retained the fresh, heart lifting sweetness it had always held for Khan. It was still the treasure he sometimes fought to earn, the treasure he would lock away in his mind's eye to warm his heart when it was heavy._

* * *

_Fingers suddenly brushed through her hair. "If it had to be from your family…couldn't it be red?" Khan asked suddenly._

_Marla burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. "Give me that!" she growled, taking the baby from him and leaning back into her now cool pillows. "I need to sleep."_

_Khan got up and put a hand on either side of her as he leaned over, breathing in the smell of her, of their baby, lathered down with the little soap they had left. "For how many years?" He smiled._

_Eyes twinkling mischievously, she grabbed his shirtfront. "Just a few thousand centuries. Have dinner ready." And then she pulled him into a kiss._

* * *

"_Why…why did you come then, Marla?"_

_She screamed back, eyes flowing with tears, hands clenched in her rags, leaning towards him with so much fire that he felt, should they touch, he would be burned. "I came…because I loved you!"_

* * *

_One hand crawled through her hair, red hair, pulling it away from her face…a beautiful face, beautiful because he knew it better than his own, had seen it everyday…argued with it, smiled at it, kissed it…loved the soul that sang behind it. She was Marla, his Marla._

* * *

_She ran one hand through his black hair, her face less than an inch from his as she breathed, "think of this as a promise…a promise forever."_

_Together, for once in perfect synchrony and consent, perfect agreement and peace of heart, perfect love…they kissed with a freedom, an invigorating joy that Khan had never felt before._

* * *

"_Good. Because you're not." Marla felt a patch of rough, bumpy scar tissue on his scalp. Her fingers delicately brushed over it, relieved to not find any heat there that would signify an infection. "In fact, you're quite hideous."_

"_That does it!" Khan's long arm snaked around her waist, surprising her. Marla shrieked aloud as he pulled her around him in one swift motion until she was lying in his lap, the book awkwardly poking into her shoulders._

_Khan leaned over her, his dark eyes reflecting the fire as he smiled devilishly at her. Marla laughed, and then received his kiss._

* * *

"_It is a pity we are in complete darkness…I would see your face one more time, should our almost impossible chance at survival prove to be too impossible."_

_He felt slender fingers touch and wrap around his chin in the dark. "That's a very sweet thought, your Excellency. Will this be enough?"_

_He felt her breath on his face, and the smile grew, stretching over both his cheeks. "For now."_

"_For now."_

* * *

_Marla scooted next to him. The air was cold as it licked the water on his bare skin. But she was warm. The floor was warm. She tucked her arms around his left one, cuddling it like a little girl cuddling a teddy bear. _

_Instinctively, his right hand crossed his chest and took her hand in his, wrapping around it safely. In less than a minute, they were fast asleep together._

* * *

_She reached up suddenly and traced the side of his face. Intrigued, not sure why she was doing it but willing to let her amuse herself, Khan raised an eyebrow. They were swaying together now, subconsciously using the pitter-patter of the rain as a sort of primitive music, as ancient and relentless as the beatings of their own hearts._

* * *

_Responding with an amused smile, Khan moved to hold the shovel with one hand, wrapping his other arm around her slender shoulders. "You are far too inquiring for your own good, Marla."_

"_Well, my good is not what's worrying me right now."_

* * *

_Instead, Marla's eyes widened in wonder and disbelief, her face turning pale with shock. Half suspended against the wall, she slowly, oh so slowly, reached out with a thin hand and gently touched his left cheek. It twitched under the sudden touch, dragging the skin under her soft, curious fingertips. _

_Something of sudden revelation and even awe transfixed her face. "You're crying."_

* * *

"_What…what is this?"_

"_This…" Marla pressed a slow, strong kiss to his cheek, her eyes closed, willing her own spirit into his, willing him to find the safety and the contentment she offered him, "is love."_

* * *

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

His boots left footprints in the sand that, though deep and sharply cut, would be gone within hours as the low breeze whipped layers of dead sand across the ground, restlessly whirling, without a home, without a purpose.

He stood tall on top of the dune, arms crossed, his whitening hair blowing about behind him as it framed a face that had once been noble, strong, handsome…now lined with pain and bitterness, with brown eyes that burned where they had once glowed.

He stared out over his domain, over the dead wasteland, the desert that burned beneath the setting sun, wide and orange where it fell behind the horizon. It cast long, lonely shadows across the ground and the wind was swiftly becoming cold.

A little hand slipped into his with a familiarity that had been too strong to be stopped instantly, as he had wished it. He had to be cold, cold and distant for what lay ahead…he must always be a killer in the eyes of his people if he wished to lead them in the way he had said he would.

"Father?" Joachim stood beside him, looking up with both trust and yet uncertainty written on his face at this man who was so like his father and yet so unlike. "What do we do now?"

Khan's lips curled up in a sneer. "Survive. We survive."

He lifted his head and looked up at the dying sky, where the clouds were thin and stretched, almost deformed, still as burnt and crisp as the day the planet had turned into the nightmare that devoured everything that ever mattered to him. He looked up, and he whispered, "come to me, Kirk. Come to me, to this living death you condemned me to…and I will kill you."

Joachim was startled. He pulled his hand away and stared up at his father.

Unaware, Khan continued, his face contorted by rage, "I will kill you…as you killed her." With his gloved hand, he suddenly thumped his chest violently, as if trying to dislodge the agony swelling there. "Beware! You killed the keeper of my heart, and the beast within me is loose. It will find you."

And then, his gaze drifted over the desert, over dead Ceti Alpha V, the graveyard of all his hopes, dreams, and loves. When he spoke again, it was a broken whisper that even his son could not hear. "You killed the keeper of my heart," for a split instant, he blinked against blurry vision; he thought he saw a flowing mass of red hair framing bright blue eyes and a smile that made his heart tremble…he waited for a voice that could touch it and bring it back to life, make it beat with love and live again. But the blue eyes faded away…the smile melted. There was nothing there, and he couldn't even bring himself to reach for where he thought she had been. When he spoke again, his voice was tremulous, quiet, like a little lost child's. "You killed her."

And for the last time, the whispered name floated over the desert, borne away on the wind, carried off into the sun, bearing the last of his love with it.

_"**Marla."**_

FINIS

_"He desired only one thing; vengeance for himself, and for the woman he had adored. Because somehow, somewhere in the middle of that horrible nightmare, she had become the very center of his universe, his first, his only, and his last."_

_~adapted from Ricardo Montalban._


End file.
